Page 7 of Safe With Me
“Promise.” I rolled my eyes for show and disentangled myself to give her a tiny push toward the exit. “Go take care of your kid, Sara Claire.”
I held it together all the way home. Wanting to cry and actually letting Tate make me cry? Two different things. Still, humiliation clung to me all the way inside, and not even the warmth and coziness of my little house could slough it off. I dropped my bag on the primitive wooden bench by the door and headed straight for my bedroom. Tonight, the soft lamps that came on automatically at dusk were too much, too bright because I was raw all over.
And I was about to make it a thousand times worse.
Perched on the end of my bed, I unlocked my phone and swiped to open my social media messenger app, filled with dozens, almost a hundred new private messages, all of them brimming with ugly names.
Jealous . . .
Whore.
Cunt.
Envious . . .
Know what you need bitch? Someone to fuck some sense into you.
Oh, wait. A threat? That was new.
Bitch.
A tear spilled, scalding my cheek. I read that one again, in Tate’s icy, accusing voice. I scrolled, stomach clenching at the sheer depth and volume of the hate. With the flat of one hand, I wiped my cheeks, pointless effort because more tears followed, a sob fighting to scrape free from my chest. I sucked it down and tossed the phone on my nightstand, wincing at the clatter when it bounced onto the floor.
I knuckled under both eyes. I wouldn’t break. I would not.
Shoving my hair back, I scrambled up and jerked open my nightstand drawer to grab my journal and pen. I flipped pages, past hopes and dreams, plans I’d made for my crafts and baking and the niche. To be someone new, to make things change, first I’d have to acknowledge what I’d lost. Ignoring those ideas that had belonged to the old Hannah, I headed a new page.
What I Lost to Elizabeth
Maybe I should have called itWhat I Let Elizabeth Take, but really, at least one thing on the list had never been mine.
I scratched words onto the paper with vicious strokes of ink.
Baking
The store
The Niche
Florals
Mama
Peace
I paused, pen hovering, and sucked in a harsh breath.
Tate
Chapter Two
Tate
I was a grade-A asshole. No doubt about it because my best buddy in the world, the guy who was the brother I’d never had, sat across from me, spilling his guts about how he’d broken his engagement, broken Elizabeth’s heart, and mostly all I could think about was her. I mean, he felt awful, but relief flowed under his words like the Flint.
He’d broken things off with the woman he loved, and he was relieved? Made as much sense as my behavior the night before. Shame heated my neck and ears, hot as a July sunburn.
And Elizabeth had to be devastated. Jase had been her everything for, well, forever. I knew because I’d watched her look at him with all her feelings for him in her eyes for forever, wondering why him and why not me.
