White noise fills my head and I hit the ground running, too afraid of what happens when I’m forced to deal with the biggest mistake of my life.
We’re All Sinners
Three days later
“Dude, seriously, call me back. I’ll be back from Boston tomorrow. If I don’t hear from you, I will be breaking down your door.” The line goes dead as Dixon hangs up for about the ten millionth time today.
The past three days, I’ve not left the apartment because I’m afraid of what I’ll do, or what I’ll say if I do. Mary has shaken up my entire world, but this time, it’s not the good kind of chaos.
After I told Mr. Yeong to go fuck himself, I was on the first plane back home. My first instinct was to find Mary and demand she explain what the holy fuck was going on, but with a lot of thinking time to spare, I realized I needed time to process everything I’d uncovered.
The pictures Keira sent erased everything I thought I knew and left me with this gaping hole in my chest. It reiterated the reason why I don’t date, and why I never should have given in. I never gave my heart to anyone because I knew this was bound to happen. Some may call me a coward, but I was smart to avoid this current clusterfuck I’ve found myself in.
I miss Mary—I fucking need her more than I need air to breathe, but she has ruined me. She never denied lying about dinner with Gail, and that betrayal cuts me deep. How could she think I would be okay with that? And then there’s the issue of love hearts near her name.
She said there’s a reason why she lied, but how can I trust a word she says?
I hate that this distrust has rooted deep within because before this, I trusted Mary with my life. I gave her a key to my apartment for fucks sake. But maybe I got swept up in the romance? In the possibility of actually being happy?
You really are too good to be true.
Her words have rung loudly since she confessed something which I felt every moment I spent with her. I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, but now that it has, I only realize how badly I want for things to go back to the way they were.
When I found her, tears streaming down her cheeks, running from the bathroom, I wanted to beg her to forgive me for treating her the way I did. Yes, I was angry, I still am, but I should have manned the fuck up and not been such a drama queen and listened to what she had to say.
I wanted to tell her the reason why I was so upset. It wasn’t the dinner itself, or that she told Gail about the watch. It was the fact she broke my trust. This whole dating thing is foreign to me. So maybe she had cold feet because we had gone from naught to perfection in weeks. But whatever the reason, if you don’t have trust, then you don’t have anything at all.
But I’m torn, and this is my dilemma.
Pacing my bedroom, the room which Mary has turned into my own personal sanctuary, I groan, unbelieving what a fucking idiot I am, because regardless of everything, regardless of the fact she has torn out my heart, I want to tell her that I forgive her because I…love…her. We all make mistakes, god knows I’ve made my fair share, but I want to work this out because what we have is too good to quit.
I have no idea what this says about my self-respect, because if this were any other woman, I would be drowning in faceless pussy by now, forgetting my woes. But Mary isn’t any other woman, she’s my woman, and in spite of everything, I want her back.
I thought I could stay mad at her forever, but the moment I saw her tears, saw her vulnerability, I wanted to forget everything that had happened and start afresh. We’re not saints, we’re sinners, but sinning is a lesson learned. And I’ve learned mine. I’ve learned that I should have acted like an adult and asked Mary if she’d hit her head and suffered temporary insanity before I jumped the gun.
When I caught Mary crying, a self-satisfied Keira emerged moments after, smirking a cat got the cream smile. When she saw me however, her entire demeanor changed and she asked if Mary was okay. That was so out of character for her and a voice inside of me yelled that she was masking her guilt.
She was beyond flirty in the kitchen. I was seconds away from telling her to fuck the fuck off, because even though she thought she was doing me a favor by spilling the beans, all she had done was fucking ruined my life. I know the truth is supposed to set you free, but she was completely smug about catching Mary out, like this was some game and she had won. But there was never a competition.
I’ve laid low, needing time to lick my wounds, but I can’t hide away forever.
Sighing, I brush back my snarled hair, my hand still throbbing like a bitch. Needing painkillers to dull the pain, I make my way into the kitchen and swig back two pills with a Budweiser. I’m a fucking mess, and I know the only cure is sitting inches away.
I can snatch my keys off the counter, drive my sorry ass over to Mary’s apartment, and demand she talk to me. She can call me names, because most of them are true, but she can’t deny me when I profess my love for her, and ask that we work past this, because what we have is too valuable to lose.
Mid-sip, my cell chimes. I know it’ll be Dix or Finch, as both have been blowing up my phone.
Contemplating changing my number, I reach for it in a huff, but pause when I see the text message on my screen. It’s a game changer. And it’s exactly what I need.
One clever asshole once told me…nothing is impossible. In case you’re wondering, that asshole is you.
I remember that occasion well. It was when Dix and I were on a mission to stop Maddy’s imaginary wedding. Times were simpler back then because I wasn’t the one losing my mind.
Rubbing over my chest, I can’t shake this feeling and I know I will never be able to unless I stop this pity party for one. Look at everything Dix was able to achieve by just being honest. No matter what happens, I can’t give up until I try.
Tossing back my beer, I slam the empty bottle onto the counter and fist my keys. I don’t bother changing my rumpled clothes, because all that matters is finding Mary and doing what I should have done days ago—listened.
Now that my decision is made, my feet can’t keep up with the urgency and I all but run toward the front door. Sadly, the door has the same idea as me and runs toward my face as it swings open with a force so great, I stagger backward once it smacks me in the nose.
Cradling it, I ignore the blood streaming from it because standing before me is my assailant…Mary.
Her chest is rising and falling frenetically. She looks ready for battle. But when she sees me, standing in the middle of my living room, blood coating my fingers and staining my white shirt, her eyes widen in horror.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
The fact she didn’t sucker punch me and asked about my wellbeing is a good sign, but my brain decides to flip me off and remind me of the picture and the fact she’s fucking my arch nemesis for fun.
“Oh yeah, totally fine,” I mutter around my hand. “Just bleeding out half my body weight. No biggie.” Now is not the time for sarcasm, but it’s the only way I can deal with this mess.
Sprinting for the bathroom with my head tilted back, I search blindly for a towel. Only when I manage to drop my toothbrush and toothpaste onto the floor and shatter my favorite cologne do I find a handtowel.
“Here, let me help you.” That sweet voice is one I’ve missed more than I thought humanly possible, and even though I’m so conflicted, I allow her to tend to my wounds.
She guides me to sit on the toilet seat as she gently removes my hand so she can press the towel to my nose. “Keep your head back,” she instructs when I attempt to look at her.
I do as she asks.
The next few minutes are filled with silence, which isn’t a bad thing, as it allows me to accept that Mary is in fact here, nursing me back to health, instead of speeding up my demise. She looks tired, the bags beneath her eyes hinting she’s had as little sleep as me.
Her hair is pulled back into a loose bun, and every freckle is exposed because her face is free of any makeup. Her usual cre
amy skin, buttered with pink-hued cheeks, now looks pale, translucent. It pains me beyond belief to see her this way.
“How’s it look, Doc?” I tease, needing to lighten the mood before I break down and sob like a baby.
“You’ll live,” she replies, ensuring to not meet my eyes. I’m done playing. She’s here for a reason, and I intend to find out what that is.
With a cautious touch, I gently place my hand over hers, but as expected, she recoils and jumps so far backward, I’m surprised she didn’t end up outside. The bloodied towel falls into my lap, but nosebleed or not, it’s time to get to the bottom of this.
Tossing the soiled towel into the basin, I stand, looking at the damage in the mirror. My face is caked in blood and my nose is double the size. With my sprained hand, and now swollen nose, I feel as battered externally as I do on the inside.
With nothing left to lose, I stand tall and very directly stare at her, waiting for her to meet my eyes. When she finally gathers the courage, it’s on, and I know this won’t end pretty. “Why are you here?”
She scoffs, folding her arms tightly. “For a number of reasons. First and foremost is to return this.” With frantic fingers, she reaches into her pocket and produces a key. No guessing what it opens.
“What are the other reasons?” I ask, standing my ground.
My unwavering stance doesn’t intimidate her in the slightest, but I never expected it to. “I need to take pictures of your bedroom…” Her pause incites World War Three. “But I can come back if I interrupted your gangbang!”
When she attempts to turn, I pounce, latching onto her bicep. She shakes me off so violently, I almost lose my balance. “You have some fucking nerve. I’m not the one who thought having dinner with a complete cockhead was acceptable behavior. Nor was I the one who thought fucking someone else would be okay!”
She snarls, ripping her arm from my grip. Her tiny hands beat against my chest. “For your information, I had dinner with Gail to try and save your ass!”
“Oh, that’s rich.” I snicker, shaking my head as I seize her wrists. “I’ve heard some bullshit stories in my time, most of which I’ve been the author of, but that takes the cake!”
This is spiralling rather quickly, but there is no sugar-coating what’s been done.
“It’s not bullshit. I didn’t even get to appetizers. I had half a drink and bolted out the door,” she spits, still fighting to free herself.
“Why, Mary, would you agree to go out with him in the first place? Please, explain, because I am so fucking confused!” I level her with my fury, which only seems to ignite hers.
“Because maybe if you weren’t so fucking blind when it came to Keira, you’d see that she and Gail are up to something. All I needed was proof, because accusations are just that if you don’t have evidence!”
“So you thought offering your pussy would somehow present all the proof you needed?” My jaw clenches, and the need to kill Gail reaches astronomical levels.
“I never offered him anything, you idiot! I’m not like you. I can actually stay faithful!” she screams, finally breaking free. She tugs at her hair, tears stinging her eyes.
“I have no idea why you think that. I have been faithful.”
“Enough! I’ve heard the evidence.”
I won’t stand by and accuse her of something I haven’t done.
She said she went to dinner with that asshole because she needed proof…well, I have all the proof I need.
Taking a deep breath, I reveal what I should have days ago. “A picture speaks a thousand words, and these two pictures have spoken about ten thousand words. They’ve spoken to me nonstop since I first saw them!” Yanking the cell from my pocket, I turn the screen so she can see her betrayal and how she’s fucking broken my heart.
Her chest falls intermittently, but when she sees the picture of her and Gail, and when I scroll across so she can see her digits, I’m afraid she’s stopped breathing all together.
“So, you see, you speak of proof…how much more proof do I need?” I wave the screen in her face, wishing that maybe, just maybe, there is some colossal mistake and she will make all of this go away.
“W-where did you ge-get that?” she stutters, her eyes as wide as saucers.
“Why does it matter? You needed your proof…well, here is mine. It’s fairly obvious this dinner was to celebrate the fact you fooled me, and fooled me real good.” When she cocks a brow, I’m done with her lying. “You can imagine my surprise when Mr. Yeong told me that it’s now an equal playing field because that bastard, Gail, knows all about the watch.”
This is the moment I’m expecting to see Mary crumble, because her ultimate betrayal has been revealed. But she doesn’t, and the wind gets knocked from my sails when she calmly nods. “I know, he told me.”
I recoil, curling my lip. “What do you mean, he told you? He told you because you told him.”
It’s like we’re speaking in tongues, because she shakes her head. “I did not. He already knew about it when we had dinner. That was the reason why I agreed to have dinner in the first place. I knew he was up to something, so yes, I may have flirted a little to get him to think I was interested, but I did it because I wanted to uncover what he was up to. I wanted to protect you.”
I close my eyes, my utter stupidity kicking me in the dick.
“I thought I was so clever, trying to get information, but he was two steps ahead because he knew about the watch and made it clear that he wasn’t telling me how he knew. So everything was for nothing and blew up in my face.”
“That’s not possible.” I stagger backward, winded.
“It’s the truth, Hunter. I have no idea why you’d think I’d tell him. Or why the hell I would fuck him…when I was fucking you.”
It should be music to my ears, but it highlights what I’ve done, what I’ve ruined because I was too scared of being happy. “Mr. Yeong told me that Gail said you’d told him about the watch, and that you and him were…together.” I almost gag on the admission.
Mary shakes her head slowly, not a hint of guilt showing. “Well, someone’s lying, and no guessing who that is.”
“But if you didn’t tell him, then who did?” I ask, so lost in translation, my brain is about to close shop.
The mood shifts from anger, to hurt, to confusion. Why would Gail tell Mr. Yeong what he did? And how did he know about the watch if Mary didn’t tell him?
She appears as baffled as me. There is still a small bubble of doubt that she’s lying to save her ass, and I hate that I can’t trust her completely. But this is so fucked up, like a script of some bad daytime TV show.
“Follow me.”
The urgency to her step has me following without question, because if she can explain what the hell is going on, then I’m in. I watch as she hunts through her bag, producing her cell. “Who are you…”
“Shut up,” Mary demands, cutting me off. “If only you had listened, none of this would have happened.”
“What are you talking about?” I bark, offended.
“I have a hunch,” she reveals, frantically pushing buttons on her phone. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner. I wanted proof…and it literally was in the palm of my hand this entire time. Rookie move,” she mumbles to herself.
I watch silently as she sets down her phone onto the kitchen counter, tapping at the screen and desperately scrolling through what looks like video footage. My interest is completely piqued and I stand beside her, thankful she doesn’t knee me in the balls.
It takes me a second, but when I recognize the backdrop, I cock my head to the side. “Is that my office?”
“Yes,” she blankly replies, rewinding through a blur of imagery. “There is a camera in there.” When my mouth hangs open, she adds, “Don’t worry. It’s hidden.”
“Oh, that makes me feel a whole lot better. Why are you spying on me?” I’m now insulted. The shit I do in there is not pretty.
“Please, don’t flatter
yourself. Everyone has one. There are creeps out there. This is solid evidence in a court of law. And besides…” She stops her manic searching, meeting my eyes. “I thought it would give us something fun to watch when we finally christened that desk.”
A longing hits me low at the possibility of never living out that dream.
Our attention returns to the screen and when a blob comes into view, Mary pauses the image. The footage may be grainy, but there is no mistaking the blob has a face, and that face is Keira’s.
“I knew it,” she spits, quickly backtracking, until she disappears from view. Mary continues searching and stops when Keira enters my office. The date in the top corner reveals it was taken a week ago.
“What the fu…”
“Sshh…” Mary shushes me, increasing the volume on her phone.
We both watch, completely absorbed as Keira makes her way into my office. She closes the door, looking from left to right like a thief, scoping out her surroundings. When the coast is clear, she saunters forward, running her finger along my desk.
She’s stalling, and I wonder why. She reveals her true motives a moment later when she rounds my desk and opens the drawer. “What the fuck is she doing?”
Mary’s heightened breathing matches the galloping of my heart. I suddenly feel so violated when she taps her chin after her snooping came up with nothing. But that pales in comparison to when those eyes, eyes which I once thought were nothing but innocent and kind, focus on my unlocked filing cabinets—the very same ones Mary goaded me about.
She smirks, running over to them, before dropping to her knees and hunting through them madly. It takes her a while, because there is no method to my madness, but I know when she finds what she’s looking for because she mutters, “What a fucking moron,” making me feel even stupider than I already do.
This would be the time Mary delivers a well-deserved I told you so, but when the door opens, we’re both lost for words. In strolls Gail. My skin crawls, knowing he’s been inside my office. I’m expecting Keira to quickly stow away what she’s found, but I should know by now, nothing is what it seems.
The Hunt - Monica James Page 26
