Page 40 of Tear Me to Pieces
I’m gonna end up punching him. I can feel it. And it’s gonna happen sooner rather than later. “I don’t disappear.” I step closer, squaring up. “Everyone knows where I am and what I’m doing.”
And I have good fucking reasons for leaving. I stay gone to protect people. To spare them the worst of me. Butch’s reasons for leaving are as unknown as his whereabouts and actions while he’s gone.
“How about we all calm down?” Myra steps between us, putting her soft body too close to Butch.
I loop an arm around her waist, pulling her back against me. “I am calm.”
Myra tips her head back, brows lifting as she looks over my face. “I’m gonna have to call bullshit on that one.” She turns back to Butch, but doesn’t try to get out of my hold, layering her arm across mine instead. “I get how you might assume this place was still empty, but that doesn’t explain why you were trying to break into it.”
“I wasn’t trying. I did break into it.” Butch acts offended at Myra’s minimization of his recent actions.
A threatening noise I would almost call a growl resonates through my chest as I stare him down. “Watch how you talk to her.”
I don’t even try to temper myself. I couldn’t anyway. I was pissed when I thought some unknown stranger dared to invade Myra’s home. Now that I know it’s someone I considered family? I’m fucking livid.
Butch sighs, raking one hand through his hair. “Can you just tell me which of these places is vacant?”
“What the fuck for?” Is this prick serious right now? Ten minutes ago I was sleeping with Myra’s perfect body next to mine and this fucker?—
Myra hooks her free arm around mine, fingers spreading across my bicep. “I think Butch was going to explain that to us before you started yelling.” She sounds way too calm right now and it grates over my skin.
I don’t like thinking about why all the yelling I’m doing doesn’t faze her, but it does calm me down. Forces me to lower my voice. “Fine.” I flex the hand at her waist, curling her closer as I maintain the glare I’m shooting Butch’s way. “Start explaining.”
Looking like he’s seriously regretting his life choices, Butch drops his head, letting it hang between his shoulders. “Fuck.” His head tips back, eyes going to the ceiling as he repeats, louder this time, “Fuck.”
“You know what?” I huff out a bitter laugh. “I don’t even care why you’re here.” I gesture across the street. “My camper’s parked behind the only building Jill still owns on this block. The electric’s even on, so make yourself at home.” I tug Myra away from him. “We’re going back to bed.”
“I’m not trying to be a dick, Simon. I’ve just got a lot on my fucking plate right now and?—”
I hold up a hand, cutting off Butch’s explanation. “I said I don’t care.” I probably should, but right now I don’t. All that matters is getting Myra away from this situation and tucked safely into her bed. “You do you, man. Just shut off the lights as you leave.” I turn toward the stairs, pausing to look over one shoulder. “And you’re going to pay to fix anything you fucked up getting in here.”
Butch gives me a single nod, mouth pressed into a flat line.
Pushing Myra ahead of me, I urge her up the stairs and into her bedroom, closing the door behind us because I want to addanother barrier between her and the man downstairs. As pissed as I am at him, I don’t believe Butch is here to hurt her. But I still don’t fucking like him breaking into Myra’s house. Especially not at night.
What if I hadn’t been here? She would have been scared to death. On her own with nothing but?—
My eyes land on the pile of items dumped out onto the bed, and a slow smile works onto my lips. Because Myra would have probably been just fine if I wasn’t here. Butch would have had his head split open, but Myra would have been okay.
And that’s all I care about.
“Sorry.” She rushes to the mess, trying to collect all of it into her arms at once. “I was in a hurry.”
I appreciate the quick thinking and bravery she showed, but I don’t like her walking into an unknown situation the way she did. “I feel like I told you to stay up here.”
“I thought you were hurt.” Myra doesn’t look my way as she drags both arms across the blankets, frantically working everything toward her body. “Turn off the light.”
“You won’t be able to see what you’re doing if I turn off the light.” I step toward her. “Let me help.”
“No.” The word jumps out of her mouth. It’s loud and clipped and stops me in my tracks.
It also drops my eyes to the bed and the items on it.
The bulk of them are benign. Uninteresting and expected. Hand lotion. A couple more books. Chapstick. A spare phone charger.Nothing that explains Myra’s panicked expression and flailing movements.
Well, except for the lavender vibrator right smack dab in the middle of everything.
My eyes fix on the device, fusing to the item I know has been pressed against parts of her I’m desperate to touch myself.
