Out of Love(79)

Crossing my arms over my chest, I focused on the digital numbers instead of him. When the doors opened, I spewed my parting words while exiting it. “You’ve had five years. You’ve exceeded the statute of limitations on that.”

I opened my door, and he pressed his hand to it, holding it open for Jericho and himself.

“I need you to leave. I don’t ever want to see you again.” Keeping my back to him, I marched to the kitchen counter and opened my cheap bottle of wine with a knife since I didn’t have a corkscrew.

“You don’t drink,” he said, standing in the middle of my living room, sucking up all the oxygen.

I poured a generous glass into an eight-ounce water glass. “You haven’t seen me in five years. You don’t know anything. I drink. I fuck other people. I pay for vet bills and dog food. And I’m a lot stronger than the girl you knew. So I suggest you get the hell out before I make you bleed.”

He pressed his lips together, his gaze following Jericho as he paced the space by his food bowl. “I know you’re stronger. I know you pay for vet bills and food. I know that you fuck other people. And I also know that you don’t drink.”

I took three big gulps and failed my attempt to not react with a sour face. Wine tasted like shit, or at least the bottle I purchased was nothing more than over-priced piss. “There … see that. Me drinking. Now you know. You can leave now.”

“I’m proud of you.”

I stared at him with no response. His pride was something I no longer needed.

“Morten and Brattebo …” He whistled. “That’s impressive, Liv. I have no doubt Knight will one day be up on that wall.”

I returned a series of blinks. That was it. That was all I had for him. “You need to leave.”

He narrowed his eyes a bit. “Why?”

“Because I’m not taking the bait. I’m not going to ask you how you lived…” my anger built as my volume escalated “… where the fuck you’ve been for five years…” my fists clenched as the words came out through gritted teeth “…who the hell is Alex, and how could you abandon Jericho!” I pitched my glass of wine at him.

He bobbed casually to the side as it hit my coffee table and shattered, red wine everywhere. I should have gotten a white wine.

“So just GO THE FUCK HOME TO YOUR WIFE!” My fingers stabbed into my hair as I lost the control that had been hanging by a tiny thread all day. I no longer cared what he thought as tears broke free from my burning eyes.

Jericho whined, ears alert and eyes wide.

Wylder gave him a tiny head shake as if to let him know it wasn’t his fight. And again, his hand balled into a fist as his thumb rubbed that circular promise of forever. Some other woman took his heart and it. Hurt. Like. Hell.

“Livy …”

“No.” My head whipped back and forth over and over again. “You’re not allowed to say my name. You’re not allowed to look at me like this…” I wiped my cheeks and held out my tear-stained hands “…like this affects you.” Choking on a sob, I tucked my newly cut, shoulder-length hair behind my ears. “Are you here for a thank-you? F-fine …” I sucked in a shaky breath. “Thank you for saving my life twice. Take Jericho. We’ll call it even. Just disappear and never come near me again.”

I didn’t mean it. If he took Jericho, I would have to quit my job to accommodate my full-time grieving.

“I’ll leave.”

I nodded, forcing my chin to stay tipped up, jaw clenched.

He made his way to Jericho and hunched down again to scratch behind his ears, kissing him on the head. “Continue to take care of her. Nobody does it better than you,” he whispered.

I choked on another sob and turned my back to him as emotions racked my body. When he opened the door, my mouth moved on its own accord, words pouring out before my brain had time to censor them or keep them from finding life outside of my head. “Do you have k-kids?” My hand covered my mouth as my eyes squeezed shut, wringing out more tears. Someone stole my dreams. Did she take all of them? Were there little Wylders running around?

“Bye, Livy.”

The door clicked shut.

Fucking ghosts.

*

I made it a full week, preparing for the trial of the decade, before I got the nerve to ask Tricia about Floyd and his security detail. Popping into her office with an armful of documents she requested, I set them on her desk and gave her an apprehensive look.

“What is it, Livy? Just ask it.” She didn’t glance up from her computer, hands vigorously moving across the keyboard.

“Floyd lives in Malibu, correct?”

“He has many homes, but yes, he has a residence there. Although, as of late, he’s been spending most of his time in Austin.”

“Texas?”

She grinned, pausing just long enough to give me the duh look.

I frowned. “For your information, Texas doesn’t own the only Austin. There’s one in Arkansas, Colorado, Nevada, and I think maybe Utah too. I’m sure there are others as well.”

“Okay, smarty-pants … I give. Why the curiosity about Floyd’s residence?”

“Nothing. Well, actually, I was just wondering about his security detail or the really rich men like him who have security. Does he have multiple details in different locations? Do the same people travel with him? If that’s the case, it would make it really hard to settle down and start a family, right?”