Steeling my spine and blowing out a long, anxious breath, I push the door open, stepping over the threshold. Nothing looks out of place at first glance. Where’s Nova, though? She usually always comes and greets me when I walk through the door.That’s odd.
The kitchen comes into view first. Setting my briefcase and the wine on the counter, I continue through the house, not even bothering to remove my shoes. The dining room is empty and exactly how I left it this morning, same with the spare bedroom off to the right.
My hands are clammy, and my mouth is too dry to swallow as I turn down the hallway that leads to the other two bedrooms and the bathroom. What if somebodyisin here robbing us? I’m not a fighter. What the hell am I going to do? I can’t scare this intruder away.
Oh, my gosh, what if the burglar attacks me?Kidnaps me?Am I about to become another sad story onThe First 48? Oh, fuck. I’m too young to die. I really hope it isn’t a murderer down here.
Where is my fucking dog? Shouldn’t she be protecting me from the Zodiac Killer lying in wait?What if the axe murderer killed Nova?!
Jesus, snap out of it, Travis.
Forcing my legs to work, I amble down the hall quietly. There’s still no noise coming from inside the house that I can hear, but my neighbor is also currently mowing her lawn, so that could be drowning out any sound. Both the bathroom and my office are open, and nothing is out of order in either of those spaces, leaving only my bedroom. I stare at it, and I swear the hallway elongates before my eyes.
The closer I get, the more I notice. It’s pushed shut, but not all the way. Our door is always left open. The grunting noises that can barely be heard over the lawn mower should’ve been a dead giveaway. Call it confusion or ignorance or what have you, but my feet carry me closer without a thought, and when I push the door open and the room comes into view, I’ve never experienced a shock like that. Whatever I expected to find on the other side of this door…thiswas not it.
There, maybe ten feet in front of me, bent overourbed with his pants around his ankles, is the man who should’ve been my fiancé by the end of the night. Behind him is somebody I’ve never seen before in my life.He must own that car.
The man railing my boyfriend from behind ishuge.Tall, broad shoulders, muscular biceps. I can’t see much else because he’s still fully clothed. His arms are covered in black ink, as is his neck. I’ll bet the rest of him is too. He’s got a short, black, cropped beard and hair that looks perfectly styled. He’s nauseatingly gorgeous, and when they both finally notice me standing in the doorway, a smug, arrogant grin tugs on his lips as he tightens his grip on Nathaniel’s hips, doubling down on the dicking he’s giving him.
Nathaniel, at least, has the fucking decency to look shameful. The color drains from his face, and his hands grapple with the sheets he’s holding on to, almost like he wants to get up. But then… then the hard cock hanging down between his legs erupts. He comes with his wide eyes pinned on me, and I watch in horror as his lips part. Hemoans, and the guy behind him stills, grunting his way through what I know, with absolute certainty, is his own release.
The world feels like it slows down. It feels like it stops as I watch them orgasm together, both of them watching me—Nathaniel full of mortification, and the stranger full of what can only be described as haughtiness.
Nausea rolls in my gut, bile rising in my throat. I stand there for what feels like an eternity, but in reality, it’s probably only been about a minute before my mind kicks into gear, and I see red.
“Travis, I—” Nathaniel starts to say, as the stranger pulls out of him. He fumbles with his pants still around his ankles, but he doesn’t have a chance to get anything else out.
Something dark and feral and bubbles over inside of me. Without thinking—without truly seeing either—I grab the object closest to me and chuck it in their general direction. It isn’t until the object leaves my hand that I see what it is that I threw… an antique lamp Nathaniel’s grandma gave us when we bought the house. It somehow misses Nathaniel entirely, connecting with the side of the smug stranger’s head.
“Fuck you,” I growl, pointing a finger at Nathaniel. Turning the finger on the man behind him, who’s now bleeding from his temple, I add, “And fuck you too, whoever the fuck you are! I hope you need stitches, and I hope whoever does them botches it!”
It’s then I hear it… paws sliding along the glass door. Nova. She’s out back. Quickly rushing over to let her in, I hurry into the bedroom closet, grab a duffle bag, and faster than I thought humanly possible, I fill it with the bare necessities. Bag in hand, I find Nova’s leash on the kitchen counter, attach it to her collar, and we leave. All before my pathetic now-ex-boyfriend and his fuck buddy have a chance to exit the bedroom. It’s not until I’m a mile down the road that I break down. The lump in my throat tightens and the pressure behind my eyes gives way to a rainfall of tears pouring hot down my cheeks.
How could I have been so, so wrong about him? About us?
3
TRAVIS
Five Months Ago
“You’re so fucking clingy, Travis. I can’t do this anymore. You’re always right there, up my ass, wanting more, more, more. It’s suffocating. Let me live!”
Gaping up at the ceiling, I recount the fight Nathaniel and I had three days ago. The fight that started because he worked lateagain, and when he got home, all I wanted to do was cuddle on the couch with him and watch a movie. He wanted nothing to do with me, wouldn’t even let me touch him. It blew up. The small argument exploded into something way bigger than it needed to be, and still, three days and a whole lot of space later, I don’t understand why.
He said a lot of hurtful shit. Shit that cut me deep. Shit that’s kept me up at night, wondering why or how I could’ve pissed him off as much as I did.
It was my last straw.
I can’t keep doing this. Can’t keep walking on eggshells. Can’t keep wanting and needing more from him, while he pulls away further and further with each argument. I mean, shit, it’s been three days since I left after the blowup, and went to Xander’s, and he hasn’t reached out to me at all. We’ve been dating for over four years, we own a home together, and he’s just okay with not speaking to me for three whole days?
It’s exhausting, this rollercoaster of emotions I go through with Nathaniel. He’s so hot and cold. One day, he so obviously loves me. He’ll cuddle with me, he’ll have sex with me, he’ll act like he gives a shit about my feelings. And then the next, it’s like a switch is flipped. He’ll work late, ignore me most of the day, and come home and act like I’m the biggest annoyance.
We’ve gone weeks without sex, or even kissing. Sometimes, it feels more like we’re roommates than anything else. But again, then there will be periods when he’s all over me, and can’t get enough attention and love. It gives me whiplash. And I know if Xander knew the full extent of why I’m staying with him, he’d tell me to cut the ties and move on.
It’s not that easy, though. I love Nathaniel.So fucking much.How do you spend years of your life with someone andnotbe consumed? I wish someone knew and would tell me, so I could stop needing him so much.
Clearly, he doesn’t need me. He couldn’t make that any more obvious.
