Page 116 of Bloom

And I cry.

I barely get a single sob out before heavy footsteps interrupt me.

They come to a stop in front of me, and I don’t have to open my eyes to know who they belong to; I know that if I did, I’d meet a pair of hazel ones. I don’t, though. I don’t want him to be here. I just want to sit here alone, cry alone. In search of some semblance of privacy, my forehead drops to my knees, my shoulders shaking as I sob ugly, loud, awful noises.

I’m such a fool. I should’ve known better. I should’ve known it was too good to be true.I should’ve known.

A hand lands on the back of my head, fingers winding in my hair, warm lips brushing my temple. “Don’t cry,” Hunter begs,but it’s a futile plea—I don’t think I could stop even if I tried. “Please don’t cry, honey. Let me explain.”

“Get away from her.”

My head jerks upwards, avoiding looking at Hunter as I zero in on Lux. Fists clenched at her sides, she practically breathes fire as she fumes, “What, and I cannot stress this enough,the actual fuck, Hunter?”

Hunter rises from his crouch. “Lux—”

He’s barely upright before he’s shoved backwards by a woman at least a foot shorter than him, and a couple hundred pounds lighter. “You piece of shit,” Lux seethes, shoving him again, and he lets her. “I told you. I told you to be careful with her. I told you to leave her the fuck alone if you weren’t serious.” Another shove slams Hunter against a stall door, startling the horse on the other side. “You remember that,Hunt?”

“Lux, stop.” Scrambling to my feet, I grab my friend by the arm. The second I make contact, her hand covers mine, her fingers lace with mine and squeeze hard, but she doesn’t take her furious gaze off her employee.

“Get out.”

Pleading hazel eyes flick to me; mine drop to the floor. “I need to talk to her.”

“You don’t even get tolookat her right now,” Lux snaps, dark hair flying as she shakes her head erratically from side to side. “You have awife.”

“We're separated,” Hunter insists at the same time his wife floats into the barn and claims, “We hit a rough patch.”

A rough patch.

Logically, I know there must be more to it; arough patchdoesn’t send you to the other side of the country. I think I believe that they’re separated. But they’re stillmarried.

Briefly, the tears subside enough to let a humorless laugh escape—he told me he didn’t have a girlfriend. That he hadn’tfor a long time. Because he had awife. The wife that’s now here, inmyhome,mysafe space, staring me down like I’m the dirt muddying the hem of her pantsuit. LikeI’mthe intruder. Which, in her life, I guess I am.

“Hunt,” she says, emphasizing the nickname like she knows it makes my chest throb. “This is a little dramatic for me.”

At my side, Lux practically vibrates with anger. To her brother, she snarls, “Get her off my ranch.”

Jackson winces at her tone, but he’s stoic as he turns to Cheryl and asks, polite but firm, for her to leave.

Cheryl scoffs again—God, do I hate that noise—and smirks at Lux. “I’m a guest here, sweetie.”

This time, Jackson isn’t the only one to cringe. I join him, my face contorting twice for the price of one; the idea of Cheryl staying in the guest houses I help clean, that I stock with flowers, is just as horrifying as the condescending term of endearment she aims at my friend.

Or rather, the sparks it ignites in dark brown eyes. “Oscar.”

I’ve never seen Jackson move so quick. In the blink of an eye, he has Cheryl by the arm and is escorting her out of the barn, leaving behind the echo of her shrill protests.

No one moves, no one says a word, the three of us listening with bated breath until we hear the purr of an engine starting, the rumble of a car slowly quieting as it gets further away.

An arm slinks around my shoulders and spins me towards the doorway. Two fingers tap my chin and urge my gaze forward when, instinctively, I try to glance at the man quietly begging for my attention. When Lux tells Hunter not to follow us, he tries not to listen. But then Jackson is there, rumbling something low and calm, and neither man follows us outside.

“I’m so sorry, Line,” Lux whispers in my ear as she leads me towards the house, her hand on my face unmoving, preventingme from glancing back like the utterly pathetic ache in my chest yearns to do. “I didn't know, I swear I didn't know.”

I want to believe that, but distrust clings to me like rancid oil, scrambling my thoughts and making me say things—accuse things. “Jackson knew who she was.”

“She booked under a different surname,” Lux fills the gap she and her brother must’ve rapidly bridged while I was crumbling. “But he didn’t know.Wedidn’t know.”

I believe her, I think. I can’t tell; I can’t feel. I’m numb as Lux guides me up the porch steps and into the house. I’m numb as she deposits me on her bed and briefly disappears, returning with a steaming mug of tea. I’m numb as I drink every drop under her instruction, letting the hot liquid scorch my dry throat.

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