I roll over and see he’s still sleeping, so I sneak out of bed to make us breakfast. When I look at the clock, it’s barely past nine, and I’m shocked we slept so late—well, shocked I did.
He passes out from the alcohol he’s consumed, and some days, he doesn’t wake up until noon. I’ve asked him to speak to a counselor and get help instead of drinking his worries away, but he refuses. He insists he doesn’t have a problem, and the only issue he has is when I bitch about it.
After I brush my teeth and pull my hair into a ponytail, I head to the kitchen, then make some coffee and grab the ingredients for breakfast from the fridge. It doesn’t take long before the meal is ready, and I’m placing bacon and eggs on two plates.
Weston stumbles from the bedroom and plops down at the table, his eyes barely open. He looks like absolute shit, and nothing like the man I met six months ago or the man I’d fallen in love with. I set a mug in front of him, knowing he’s still drunk from the night before.
“Hungry?” I ask with a smile, handing him a plate.
He shrugs but starts eating right away without a thank you or any sort of appreciation. Though I’m not the least bit surprised anymore. He’s an ungrateful bastard, to say the least.
For a while, we eat in silence. When our plates are empty, I clear the table, then refill our coffees. I’m happy he’s drinking something other than whiskey for now.
“I saw a security guard position at the mall on a job board when I was scrolling online yesterday. Offered good hours and benefits, too,” I mention as I begin rinsing our plates. My cheeks heat in fear because I realize my slipup. Mason was the one whofound out he lied about his job and wasn’t a correctional officer. I hadn’t said anything to Weston, knowing he’d be livid. While I was angry at the time, Mason was right about one thing. I do need to be careful.
Weston’s eyes lock onto mine. “What do you mean? Asecurity guard?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Just something I saw in passing. It’s the same thing as what you were doing, isn’t it?” I ask, playing stupid so he doesn’t see through my lie.
He pounds his fist on the table, making me jump. “What? You don’t trust me? Don’t trust that I’m looking for a fucking job? It’s only been a couple of days, for fuck’s sake. I don’t need you job hunting for me, Sophie.” The venom in his tone slices right through me.
Though my heart beats rapidly in my chest, I suck in a deep breath and try to stay calm. “Sorry, I just thought I’d pass on the information I saw.”
Narrowing his eyes, Weston watches me like I’m his prey. “You know damn well it’s not the same thing, don’t you?”
I’ve always been a bad liar and wish I wasn’t so transparent. “Okay, yeah, I did. I know you were a security officer, but it’s not a big deal, Weston,” I quickly rush out with a sincere look. “We’d just met, and I’m sure you accidentally misspoke about your job or were trying to impress me.” I push off the kitchen counter and walk toward him, hoping to dissolve his anger brewing. “Baby, it doesn’t matter to me. You could shovel shit for all I care.”
“It was that guy, wasn’t it? Mason. Is that his fucking name? What else did he tell you about me?” He stands from the chair so fast it falls to the floor.
“No.” My eyes go wide, and my adrenaline spikes as I step back.
“You’re fucking lying!” Weston screams and takes his mug and slams it against the floor, shattering the porcelain into a hundred pieces. He takes a step closer but trips over the table leg, causing everything on top to go crashing over. “You’re a fucking lying cunt!” he shouts in my face as I cower backward.
He’s losing it, and I don’t know how to calm him down when he gets like this. He picks up a chair and throws it across the room. It slams into the wall, causing a clock to fall and break.
“Weston, please,” I beg, trying to steady my voice and reason with him. I suck in a steady breath, not wanting him to see how scared I am, but it’s useless the louder he gets. My body shakes, and I’m cursing myself for bringing up jobs because I knew better. Weston throws his fists around, breaking through the drywall, then kicks the back door so hard, he leaves a dent in it. His knuckles drip with blood, and I want him to stop so he doesn’t hurt himself further—or me.
I step closer, gently reaching for him. He rears back in his blinded rage and then all I see is his fist. It happens so fast I don’t have time to react before it hits my face. At the moment, everything goes black, and I’m blinded by pain. I’m dazed, confused, and hurt…again. I fall to my knees, holding my cheek. There’s nothing I can do but cry and leave the room, so I do both. I stand, stumbling on my feet, unable to focus and rush to my purse to grab my keys.
Weston realizes what I’m doing and stalks after me, yanking my arm until I fall on the ground. He’s too strong for me to fight and throws me around like a rag doll. My knees hit the carpet, and when I look up at him, he’s smiling maniacally.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he hisses.
I don’t say anything, but if my daggers could kill, his ass would be laid out right now. Too bad he’s twice my size.
“So, Sophie,” he says, twirling my keys around his finger. “Did you fuck him? I bet you did. Probably fucked his loser friend, too. You’re the town whore, aren’t you?”
“What? What’re you talking about?” I cry, still holding a hand over my eye, tears streaming down my cheeks.
Weston manically laughs. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Mason, that little bitch of a friend you have. You fucked him, didn’t you? Why else would he come after me to defend your honor?”
I swallow, keeping my tone flat as I wipe my face, honestly having no idea what he’s talking about. All Mason told me was that he dug up information on him, not that he confronted him. “No.”
Weston towers over me, then leans down and wraps his hand around my throat, nearly choking me as he slowly rises with my life in his grip. “How many times are you gonna fucking lie to me today?”
I gasp for air, crying as I try to pull his hand off me. I’ve never been so scared for my life as I am right now. “Please,” I choke out. “Please, stop.”
He releases me, and I crash back down to the floor, sobbing. Weston walks away, placing my keys on top of a bookshelf I won’t be able to reach. I’ve never felt so helpless in my goddamn life as I do right now. Somehow, I pick myself up off the floor, feeling broken and not sure what I’m going to do.