Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Motherfucker!
In that single moment, anger like I had never felt before settled over me. In that moment, I was a child born of rage and bedlam. Fury be thy name, and as I rushed out the door, my ferocity ignited from a singular spark to a raging inferno and it burned so hard it scorched my veins.
If he thought he was leaving me, leaving us a second time, he had another think coming.
“No,” I called the second I crossed the threshold. That call was upgraded to a shout when he turned and stilled, an expression of impatience crossing his features. “No!” And once I passed the front porch, I didn’t stop, charging him in nothing but my slinky, cream-colored nightie. My heart began to race as I lifted my hands, put them to his shoulders, and pushed as hard as I could. “No!”
My shove barely moved him.
How infuriating.
“Go back inside,” he uttered passively, and my anger went supernova.
I spoke. I spoke even though my voice shook. “You don’t get to do this.” When he turned his face away, I lifted my trembling hand and brought it to his cheek, forcing him to look at me. “You don’t get to do this to us again.”
He licked his lips, blinking down at me unemotionally. “Go back inside, Lexi.”
“No.” I stood my ground, but my bravado slipped. “Not without you.”
Twitch took in a deep breath. “I gotta get outta here a while, okay?”
“No.” My veins lit with pure scorching lava. I shook my head and ground out excruciatingly, “Not okay.”
I hated that I cried when I got angry because he thought I was genuinely sad, when in reality I was trying my hardest not to fucking kill him myself.
My eyes blurred with unshed tears. “Is this what you do now? You just pack up and leave when shit gets hard?” My breathing turned heavy as I let my anger be known. “I’m so glad you feel you have the choice, you fuckhead,” I panted then wept. “I don’t have that luxury, to escape when I feel like I’m fucking sinking inside, which is a lot, by the way. Because I’m a mother.” I pointed toward the house as my tears left a burning trail on my cheeks. “And there’s a little boy in that house who depends on me.”
When he lowered his face, the sadness crept in, outweighing the anger. My grief was real, and while I had already gone and experienced the first three stages, the forth step came hard and fast. And then I was bargaining.
“Please don’t do this.” My shoulders shook as I cried openly. He opened his mouth to speak, but I lifted a hand, cutting him off. “I don’t care what you do to me, but don’t do this to him.” It was hard to breathe and my voice turned weak. “I barely survived it, Tony.” My lips quavered, as I whispered agonizingly, “This will kill him.”
As we stared at each other a long while, Twitch unzipped his hoodie and stepped forward, cloaking me in his warmth and his smell, pulling the hood up over my head while looking completely calm, and I hated him then.
How could he appear so tranquil as I felt my world was falling apart?
So when he stepped forward and cupped my cheeks, I fought him. “No.” I lifted my hands and slapped at his chest. He leaned in again, and a pained grunt escaped me as my hand connected with his chin. “Don’t touch me!” A strong arm circled my waist and held me fast, and I lifted my arms, hitting him again and again as I wept openly. “Don’t touch me, you piece of shit!”
“Baby, stop,” he cooed, avoiding as much of my assault as he could.
Balling my hands into fists, I punched his shoulders, but my blows were abating as my heart weakened, as my soul desperately tried to understand why this was happening all over again.
The answer was a hard pill to swallow.
It was happening, because I let it.
“Let go of me.” I struggled in his hold, and when he didn’t release me, I screamed, “Let go of me!”
And just like that, Twitch had turned me into another angry housewife yelling in the street.
He let go then, and as much as I begged for it, I wanted to rush back into his arms if it meant keeping him with me a while longer.
Yes. I was truly pathetic.
And when I shook my head and turned my back on him, heading back toward the house, wondering how in the hell I would explain this to my son, he caught my wrist. I yanked it free with little to no effort and turned my deathly glare on him. “You want to go?” I swept my arm out. “Go.” My expression severe, I warned, “But I swear to you, Antonio Falco, if you leave today, you leave for good. Do you hear me?”