Page 156 of Wild Thing
I wanted him to use his strong, tattooed arms to sweep me up and throw me onto the bed—to fuck some sense into me so everything would be made right again.
I wanted him to scream at me, to tell me that we were supposed to be together, that all the pain, all the mistakes, all the fucked-up choices didn’t matter when it came to us.
If only I could have just mustered the courage to be honest.
Instead, I stood there and watched the love of my life collect his phone from the coffee table and slowly walk toward the door.
“If I walk out this door, I’m not coming back.”
His words not a threat, but a promise.
When I didn’t respond, I saw it in the way his body moved and how his shoulders dropped, that he was done. "I hope you find your happy, Dylan."
I stood there long after the door had closed.
Utterly heartbroken.
I'd hit rock bottom.
Forty-Two
DYLAN
The airport lounge was quiet.
I sat on a two seater lounge in front of giant floor to ceiling windows that faced the runway.
It was late afternoon and the sun had just sunk beneath the horizon bringing to a close another hard day. I pursed my lips together and cooled my peppermint tea while I waited for Taylor to arrive.
I was finally on my way home.
My fingers gingerly touched the wound on my head. It was sore as hell. I winced, wondering for the hundredth time how everything had spiraled so out of control. I stared out at the airplanes taxiing on the tarmac, my thoughts swirling. My lifehad already been a giant clusterfuck before the Steven incident—now it was a raging dumpster fire. My career had a giant question mark over it, so did my self worth and moral compass.
What was left of it anyway.
And to think I thought I was fucked up before this trip.
I’d give anything to go back to the days when my biggest worry was my relationship status with Zack.
“Hey, girl,” Taylor said as she arrived, tossing her tote bag on the floor and lowering herself onto the lounge beside me. “How are you doing?”
Earlier, I'd called her and filled her in on everything that had unfolded the night before.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Numb, I guess.”
She gave me a pitying look. “How’s your head?”
“Sore as hell.”
“You might end up with a cute little Harry Potter scar,” she teased.
A small laugh escaped me. “I’m more of a dementor lately.”
She smiled sadly. “What's the update with Steven?”
An announcement paging a passenger blared over the speakers. I waited until it was over before I continued.
“He’s being charged with aggravated sexual assault. Obviously, he's been fired too.”
