I wanted to destroy the bed, the chair—everything in this room. I wanted the whole building to collapse on top of us.
But all I could do was shake. My arms, my hands—my whole body trembled like it was coming undone from the inside out.
I was stuck.
Stuck with rage.
Stuck with shame.
Stuck with the sound of my wife’s moans for another man echoing in my ears.
And that motherfucker?
He just smirked.
He tapped the screen again. The video disappeared. He slid his phone into his pocket and leaned down.
“Work harder on getting better,” he said. “And stop being mean to her.”
Then he straightened up and walked out.
I sat there.
Body stiff.
Jaw locked.
What the fuck was his angle? Did he want Jordin or not?
Thirty Three- Oak
The wheels of my chair squeaked as I rolled myself toward the hospital entrance, my cane resting across my lap. My legs were starting to feel like they belonged to me again but were still weak, unsteady. But I was walking. Barely. And that was enough for me to be leaving.
Jordin was waiting for me outside, leaning against her car with her arms crossed. The Florida sun illuminated her face, making her glow. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. She looked beautiful, effortless. My chest tightened. I hated how much I still wanted her. How much I still needed her. But did I even hate it? No. I hated the fact that I had needed her, wanted her, and had fucked it all up and couldn’t have her. Now I was stuck working my way back in.
“You ready?” she asked, pushing off the car and opening the passenger door for me.
Before I could answer, the redhead nurse pushing my chair let out a dramatic sigh. “You better be ready. You’ve been terrorizing this whole hospital long enough.”
I smirked. “You’ll miss me.” And I knew she would. She enjoyed the baths and showers she helped me take more than I did.
Jordin got this look on her face that let me know she wasn’t amused with the nurse. I held back a smirk. I liked that she was jealous.
“Goodbye, Nurse Williams,” I dismissed her, keeping my tone even but detached enough to let Jordin know I wasn’t interested. Gripping the armrests of my chair to hoist myself up, my legs trembled, but I managed to shuffle into the seat without collapsing. Jordin folded my wheelchair and stashed it in the trunk. It bothered me that she had to do this. I hated how much she had to see me like this—broken, dependent, weak. I loved my wife too much to want to lean on her. I was supposed to be the one she leaned on.
The drive started quietly. “I’m so proud of you, Oak,” she said after a while. “The doctors didn’t think you’d be well enough to leave for at least six months, and you’re leaving in three. Are you sure you won’t tell me what motivated you?”
I chuckled and shook my head, staring out the window. “Nah, it’s nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. The memory of that video Ciarán had shown me flashed in my mind—Jordin, in that white dress, his dick covered in her. My blood ran hot just thinking about it. Ciarán’s voice echoed in my head, taunting me.
“See how much of this dick I’m pushing in your wife’s pussy? Don’t you want to fuck her like this one day again? I know you miss how she damn near sings when she cums. The way she moans, ‘ready,’ and begs you to make her cum.”
There weren’t words to explain how much I missed it. I could feel my dick growing on my leg as I clenched my fists, despite the fact that my body was shaking with rage all over again.
I didn’t know if Ciarán had shown it to me to piss me off or to push me, but it had worked. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it. Every time I tried to sleep, I heard her moans. It was torture, but it was also fuel.
It almost got Ciarán killed. I had enough money to make him disappear, but I knew that would hurt Jordin, and I didn’twant to do that. But I probably would have if I thought she wouldn’t suspect me.
