Page 153 of Three Reckless Words

My vision blurs.

I hear my own breathing in my head as I stand, the world spinning, that stupid gum wrapper fluttering in my fingers. Thinking Holden did it abstractly and having absolute proof he did are two different things.

I’ve never hated anyone in my life.

Not like the way I hate him now.

It’s almost explosive, this ugly feeling throbbing under my skin.

I want him to pay.

I want to hurt him.

To take his balls and twist because he just destroyed the homes of so many precious bees, and for what? To get back at me?

Sweet Jesus.

I’m not thinking straight as I yank my phone out and dial his number. There’s a cooler breeze today, but I’m flushed, sweat running down my back as I stand in the flower beds he ruined and listen to the sound of it ringing.

“Winnie,” Holden says softly when he answers. “Hi.”

“Don’t give me that crap. Why did you do it?”

“I wondered when you’d call.” He blows right past my question. Typical.

“Holden, howcouldyou?” I snap. Everything is shaking—my hands, my voice, my bones. I feel like I’m about to shatter. “How dare you.”

“Oh,” he says, his voice hollow with disappointment. “Yes. I thought you might have had a change of heart.”

“Change of heart? Go to hell.” I’m so mad I’m spitting. I start pacing across the crumbling soil of the flower beds. “I know what you did and you don’t get to deny it.”

“Winnie—”

“No. You listen and listen good. If you ever come here again, it’s all-out war. Do you hear me? Do you understand?”

He sighs. Just like he has a thousand times before when I complained, like I’m some petulant child burdening him. “You’re confused. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The fuck you do.”

“You’re really going to swear at me?”

“Why not?” I mock through acid tears.

I hate how I cry when I’m angry—it takes the edge off my rage. No one takes a crybaby seriously.

“Let me guess, it isn’tproperlike nice young ladies are supposed to be for a senator’s son? Newsflash, Holden. I’m not nice. But I’m still a thousand times kinder than you.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice after you fled our wedding.”

“Then why are you going around destroying other people’s property in some sick, stupid attempt to get me back? I don’t dothreats.” It’s laughable, really, the fact that he thought this could bully me back into line.

Is that all I am to him? To my family?

A throwaway who’s easily intimidated.

No!

Actually, I’m so angry I can’t see straight.

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