Page 111 of Revelry
Eventually, as he fastened his watch he flicked his stare to me. “You can let yourself out. And get your damn shower fixed, I’m fed up of you relying on me for that.”
A lump grew in my throat and before I could say anything, he left the room.
I’d overstepped our boundaries and pushed him too far. Thinking I had an insight into him but his callous words suggested I didn’t know him at all.
I hadn’t been planning on caring for him so much. I had been planning to walk away from this casual fling that suddenly didn’t feel so casual. Because after a while, I’d realized I never wanted to walk away from him. And it wasn’t a new feeling, I’d thought about him over the years, wondered what had happened to him. We were meant to be something our entire lives.
Although he could clearly walk away from me and that hit me harder than his words had. This man who had shown me more support, affection and care in a handful of weeks than my husband, or any man ever had.
I could hear him banging around downstairs, he hadn’t left yet. I slowly gathered my things, feeling like some cheap one-night stand instead of a friend or lover. I was angry with Tate for being cruel and lashing out because he was hurt. I was angry at myself for attaching so much to our relationship when clearly, he didn’t have as much regard for me as I thought. I wouldn’t be treated like shit again. I wouldn’t let myself sit and wallow over another man who didn’t want me and didn’t even deserve me.
Sadness tried to envelop me but I ignored it. I refused to feel sad over this ridiculous fight that escalated so quickly. I wasn’tthe same woman I had been, I was worth more and wouldn’t be treated badly by men again when I hadn’t done anything wrong.
I hovered in the kitchen doorway. Tate’s shoulders were hunched, back muscles pulled taught as he faced the stove. I took one last look at him, my heart bleeding out from his pain and my hurt.
“One day you’re going to wake up all alone and wonder how you threw away one of the best things that ever happened to you.” His shoulder hunched further at my words. “And when that day comes, just know, I’m sorry for you.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tate
“Harriet, pop that gum one more time and I swear to God, I’ll fire you!” I raged.
There was silence as my words registered. Then I heard the distinctive plop of the gum into the trash can and I pushed out a shaky, relieved breath.
My OCD was at an all-time high, anger hopping along for the ride and I knew why. I hadn’t had a Gertrude fix in weeks. And it was all my own fault.
But in my defense, she had poked at a particularly sore wound that hadn’t healed even after almost twenty years and a fuck ton of therapy. I was like an animal nursing an injured paw, lashing out when someone tried to look at it. The victim of my wrath had been the one woman I never wanted to turn it on.
I hadn’t seen her since. Our text chat hadn’t pinged with continuous messages. I hadn’t heard her caterwauling next door oranythingthrough the bedroom wall. I hadn’t even seen her at the ranch, but she could be avoiding me, she knew my schedule now.
The second I had a moment to cool down, everything I said flooded into me. The cruel way I’d spoken to her, snapping at her out of guilt over ignoring my brother. I hated that I had all these feelings and pain when it was my father who caused all this. I hated myself for bringing up Gertrude’s father. The situations were completely different, and I had no right to remind her of her own trauma while I struggled to cope with mine.
Her parting words had haunted me. They weren’t cruel but lined with pity that made bitterness burn my throat. Because she was right. I’d always thought I wanted to be left alone, hadn’t wanted to let people into my life for fear of being hurt, used or abandoned. But the last few months with Gertrude, and the friendships I’d made in town, had been the best of my life.
It had been hard without her, harder than I thought it would be. I figured things would just go back to normal and life would be the way it was before. I tried to tell myself that life before Gertrude was fine, it was good, it was what I wanted. Except it turns out that life with Gertrude was a hell of a lot brighter than life without her.
I just wanted to talk to her.
Christmas and New Year had come and gone, and I’d have liked to spend them with her. Our crappy Christmas tree was officially dead. But I couldn’t bring myself to take it down. The memories of us laughing, the lights reflecting off her joyful face, the sheer pleasure that she brought into my life, chasing away bad memories and then the mind-blowing sex that followed haunted me.
“Are you okay, Dr. Wilder?” Harriet peered at me around the door frame, like she was too scared to come in. I was a dick for shouting at her, my temper was quicker than normal at the moment, especially for all my OCD triggers.
“Yes, apologies, Harriet. It’s been a tough week.”
She nodded. “What about last week?”
I bit my cheek. “That was also a tough week.”
“And the week before, was that tough too?”
I nodded, clenching my teeth.
“Yah, that’s a lot of tough weeks, Dr. Wilder. Maybe you should speak to someone about that?” She was too afraid of me to reprimand me for my behavior, but this was the closest she would get.
I nodded. “You’re right, Harriet. It won’t happen again.”
She smiled a little, like she was proud of herself and I was kind of proud of her too for telling me, without telling me, to get over my shit and stop taking it out on her.
