Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(112)

“I don’t know. I don’t like that she’s not responding.”

“Maybe she stopped to pick up groceries or something?”

“Maybe. That’s possible.” She hasn’t been to the cabin in a few weeks, so it’s entirely possible that she made a pit stop to stock up on essential items.

The uneasy feeling in my gut settles when I pull down the driveway and her car comes into view. “Thank fuck.”

It looks like she’s just arrived. The trunk of her car is open, her overnight bag still inside. I grab it and head for the front porch. But my blood runs cold at the shrill scream that comes from the other side of the partly open door.





Thirty-Eight





The Edge of Awful





Clover





I set the grocery bags on the porch and slide the key into the lock, letting myself into the cabin. I’m not sure what to expect in the next twenty-four hours, whether Maverick will be going to Nashville, or somewhere else, or if he’ll decide to pursue another career. But whatever his decision, I’m on his side.

I pick up the bags, leaving the door open because my overnight bag is still in the trunk. I want to get the groceries unpacked first and the champagne in the fridge. I pull my phone out and bring up Maverick’s contact, ready to fire off a message to let him know I’m here and he can come by whenever he’s ready.

I pick up the bottle of champagne in my other hand and turn to the fridge, but I startle at the sound of the door hitting the wall. I spin around, thinking maybe we’re in for a storm. There were some dark clouds on the drive in, and sometimes the wind acts like a funnel in the bay, depending on the direction it’s coming from.

But it’s not wind.

It’s Gabriel.

Message half-composed, I fumble my phone, and it drops to the floor. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’d ask you the same question, but I already know the answer, so that would be pointless.” He steps inside the cabin, looking around the space. His gaze lands on the kitchen table, where two paper cranes sit in the empty fruit bowl. One from the first night we met, the other from our New Year’s celebration.

“How much longer is this going to continue? What you’re doing is embarrassing for both of us,” he says as he crosses the room.

I take a step back, the floorboards squeaking under my feet. “You’re violating the order of protection. You need to leave.”

He ignores me. “I’m done with the bullshit. I’ve been more than patient, more than understanding about this whole thing. But you’re taking this way too fucking far, and it needs to stop.”

“You’ve been understanding? About what?” I don’t like the wild look in his eyes, or the way he doesn’t seem to be tracking quite the way he should. I glance down. My phone is only a few feet away, almost within reach, but I don’t want to take my eyes off him, and I don’t like that he’s between me and the front door. There’s a sliding door in my bedroom, but that’s on the other side of the cabin.

“You and this kid you’re fucking.” He spits the words, like they taste sour in his mouth.

“That’s none of your business, is it?”

He takes another step closer, and my only option is to back up, moving me farther from the front door, but marginally closer to the bedroom. I’ll still have to cross the living room to get there, though.

He sneers, and his voice is mostly a growl. “Have you forgotten? You’re still my wife.”

I keep my hold on the bottle of champagne. If nothing else, it’ll make a good, albeit expensive, weapon. “Not willingly! It’s been two years since we separated.” And at this moment, I realize today is the anniversary of the day I packed a bag and left him.

“I’m not giving you a divorce, Clover. You don’t get to run away from me anymore.”

“You can’t hold me hostage forever.” I glance at the clock on the stove. It’s already after eight. It only takes an hour or so to get here, and I told Maverick I would message when I arrived. He’ll worry if he doesn’t hear from me soon.

“Oh, I can, and I absolutely will.” His lips curl into a sneer as he reaches the island, and he slams his fist on the counter. “You are my fucking wife!”

The hairs on the back of my neck rise. “Why won’t you just let me go, Gabriel?”

“Because you are mine, and you don’t get to decide when you’re done with me. I’ve waited two years for you to come to your senses.”

I’ve never seen him unhinged like this. “I’ve already moved on.” I motion between us, bottle of champagne still fisted in my other hand. “We are over.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “We’re not over until I say we’re over. I’m done being patient. I should’ve burned this goddamn place to the ground when I realized what you were doing.”

“What?”

“I know you’ve been sneaking out here for months with that little shit. Playing house. Whatever plan you think you have, it’s going to be awfully hard to execute if this place is a pile of ash.”

My phone lights up on the floor, and I glance down as Maverick’s name flashes across the screen. I should have messaged him as soon as I pulled into the driveway. I always forget to take it off the do-not-disturb setting when I’m done in the car.