Page 89 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
“There’s no talking with him,” I grind out, squinting at the navigation pane on the infotainment system, trying to see when I need to exit the highway.
“Okay,” Yennifer says with an edge of irritation in her tone. “Maybe with a mediator, then. I’m happy to facilitate.”
Irritation amplifies the headache I’ve nursed since leaving Storm’s room.
“Yennifer, why don’t you trust me to know what to do here?”
“Because you’re not thinking with your brain, you’re thinking with your damaged heart.”
The silence in the car is deafening after that statement. She’s right, and I hate that.
So damn much.
“Listen, I tried. He’s too angry, too…hurt.” The raw words we exchanged play on a loop in my brain; each barb we spat at each other sticks into my gray matter like a dart. “When we try to talk, we both get too emotional.”
Yennifer goes quiet over the line, then hums in a way that lets me know she’s on to me.
“You fucked him, didn’t you?” She lowers her voice as if she’s scandalized and trying not to be overheard.
“Yennifer,” I grind out. “Please stop.”
“Oh, my God, you totally fucked. Good for you. Was it still good?” I want to hide or close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, and gola-la-la-la-laaaaato avoid having this conversation.
But Yennifer will harass me all the way across the world, so I need to fess up.
“Yes,” I say calmly, even though my body feels like I just played hopscotch with a live wire. “It wasn’t a smart move and was a purely emotional decision. It won’t happen again.”
“Mmhmm.” The sound she makes is so disbelieving, Ithunkmy head against the headrest.
“It won’t happen again because you don’t hold sexual feelings for Storm or because you are consciously deciding not to complicate things with sex or…because you’re running away?”
My ears begin to ring at her question, and I’m not sure this isn’t an early sign of stroke.
“I’m just doing what’s best for the kids.”
More humming from her end of the line.
“I see.” She pauses, but then in a gentler voice says, “Babes…don’t you think running off will make things worse?”
Sweat rolls down my back despite the AC, and I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ache.
Will this make things worse with Storm? Possibly. Probably. But if I wait around for Storm to decide what happens next…I won’t be able to forgive myself if I don’t try to protect my kids.
Storm doesn’t know them. I do. The kids will be terrified if he were to rip them away from me. Because that’s what it’d be. He wouldn’t share custody or try to work out a visitation schedule. He’ll just take them to spite me.
Now? Now Storm Sandoval hates me, and I don’t think I can survive his loathing.
“I don’t know what Storm will do, and that’s the problem, Yennifer. Their safety comes first,” I say.
After a long moment, she says, “Okay, Shae. You know best.”
No, I don’t, but I’m trying like hell to make the right decision.
A car speeds past me, going at least 110 miles per hour. They cut so close to me that I involuntarily jerk the wheel to the right before fixing it.
“Fuck! It’s too early for this shit!” I shout, and Yennifer squeaks over the line.
“What’s happening?” she shouts, sounding edgy.
