Meet Me Halfway(95)

I ripped more of my heart out for her, telling her exactly where I stood and what would happen if I looked at her a moment longer. I nearly convulsed when she responded by placing her hands on my chest, but I didn’t give in.

“As long as that piece of shit is within arm’s reach of me, I can’t keep fucking looking at you, or tonight’s story is going to have a completely different fucking ending.”

I pulled away, swallowing a growl when her first words after that were to ask about her ex.

“He’s not your concern,” I snapped. And with that, I walked away, leaving her standing in the driveway. I knew exactly what I was going to do, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it naked.





It was almost pitch black out, the surplus of trees around the park keeping most of the natural moonlight from seeping through. I parked as close to my goal as possible, the dirt path illuminated by a single, dull light pole.

Grabbing a half-empty water bottle from my cup holder, I stepped out, tucking it into my back pocket and pushing my seat forward. I stared down at the prone form sprawled across my backseat, thankful he at least hadn’t vomited during the drive.

Just the sight of him had me raging again, and I wished I had a fucking cigarette. I’d quit smoking when I realized Jamie lived next door, and I didn’t regret the choice, but moments like this sure as hell made quitting harder.

I leaned down, digging through his pockets until I found his phone and pocketed that as well. Then I yanked him out, not at all gently.

He grunted when his body dropped to the asphalt but didn’t start to wake until I’d already hauled him several feet over onto the path.

“You know,” I said, speaking calmly as I stopped next to the structure and stripped him of his pants. “I didn’t get it. When Maddie told me about the shit you put her through. I didn’t understand how any man could enjoy humiliating and hurting someone.”

I gripped the hem of his shirt, ripping it up and over his head. His arms twisted violently, and one of his shoulders popped from the sudden movement. He cursed, his words slurred as he kicked out and nailed me in the shin, but I didn’t care.

I welcomed the pain, welcomed even the smallest bite of agony from this piece of shit because Maddie had taken worse. Survived worse. Grown from worse.

I clutched a fistful of his thick hair, yanking him up to my level and staring at him through empty eyes. “I didn’t understand it then, but I get it now,” I said before whacking the side of his head against the dirt-spattered blue wall next to us.

He cried out, dropping to the ground and vomiting liquid bile all over his naked legs and hands. I stepped away, flinging open the door and propping it with a stone. Then I snatched his ankles, avoiding the spots where puke-drenched leg hair stuck to his skin.

At this point, he was barely conscious again. I heaved and maneuvered his limp body inside the porta-john, smacking my elbows against the plastic walls and biting back my urge to gag when something squelched as I dropped the douchebag’s feet into the hole. I leaned the upper section of his body to the side, his head lolling against the back wall.

I removed the water bottle from my pocket, throwing the lid on his lap and pouring the frigid liquid on his face. He heaved in a breath, spurting, and whacking his cheek against the wall.

Letting the empty bottle fall, I removed both our phones from my other pocket. I swiped on the camera on each and started duplicate videos of his face as I leaned down. I waited to make sure he was at least halfway focused on me before I spoke.

“Aaron Walsh, this is your only warning. I have documentation, both written and photographed, of your physical and emotional abuse of your ex-wife, Madison. It is thorough and graphic.”

I ground my molars together, fighting the desire to punch him in the face again as those pages flipped through my memory on repeat. The bruises, the threats, the fear. Fuck, if it didn’t kill me every time I thought about it.

“If you so much as think of her again, tonight will seem like a frat-house prank compared to what I will do. If you return to her home, you will have thicker medical records than she does. And if you ever lay a finger on her again, you won’t even make it to the hospital.”

I clicked the videos off, tucking my phone back in my pocket and throwing his next to him, the echo of it against the plastic loud in the enclosed space. “Do you understand me?”

“I hear…I hear you, man.” His words mumbled out through his swollen lips, and part of me reveled in it. The part of me that had come alive the second I’d seen his motherfucking hand gripping Maddie’s face.

“That’s not what I asked,” I said, grabbing and twisting his arm. “I said, do you understand me?”

“Jesus fu—fuck! I understand.”

I released him, brushing the smear of blood across my knuckles on my jeans, ready to ditch this piece of shit. I wanted to go home and check on the little family that was intent on stealing my goddamn heart.

“Madison Hartland does not exist for you. She never has and never will. She was never fucking yours.”

And then my fist met his face again.





About the Author

Lilian T. James was born and raised in a small town of Kansas until she finished high school. Enrolling at a University on the east coast, she moved there with her son and obtained degrees in Criminal Justice, Social Work, Psychology, and Sociology. After graduating, she met her husband and moved to the west coast for a few years before settling back in Kansas in 2022. She has three kids, one miniature dachshund, and has been an avid fantasy and romance reader her entire life. Lilian was finally able to publish her first novel, Untainted, at thirty-years-old and has no plans of stopping.