It was hot.

Like really, really hot.

Lena Donovan was sweating like it was an Olympic game, her wet hair clinging to her face in all directions, and her clothes were clinging to her body like a second skin she presently couldn’t wait to do without.

In all her twenty-six years on earth, she'd never felt as tired than she did at that moment. A hot bath was much needed; a delicious glass of her favorite red wine in one hand, a Lorraine Heath historical romance novel in another and the last thing she wanted to do or see was the moron following her.

Hello, stalker much?

“Stop!” he shouted from behind her.

When someone yelled stop, she never knew if it was in the name of love, or Hammertime, or if she should really listen.

She didn't want to. She honestly didn't, really because she knew that her resolve would break if she did. And that was the last thing Lena wanted.

Most of all, she was angry. Who said anger had to be a bad thing? It wasn't, if one knew the right thing to channel it to. And right now, she was channeling every spark of anger in her to the scorching hot cup of coffee in her hand.

She'd just come out of The Taste, the little cafe on the other side of her house. Black coffee was good for the soul, and it was safe to say she was an addict. Besides, one was never fully awake without coffee.

Against her better judgement, Lena turned. And came face to face with the asshole who broke her.

Again.

“What do you want this time, Matt?”

Matt was her ex. Ex boyfriend, to be precise. A shitty one, but one nonetheless.

Now one might be wondering, why? Why weren't they on good terms like most ex-boyfriend and girlfriend? Why was she itching to bash his oh-so-handsome face in the wall? Why was she fervently praying he'd just take a walk someday and never come back?

She’d tell you why.

Why, because he was a fucking lying cheating bastard. They'd been together for two years and all she got out of that relationship was fake orgasms, lies and deceit.

Matthew Langley had toyed with what Lena called her heart. He'd yanked it out of her chest with a knife, scrunched it up in his hands, threw it to the ground and stomped on it with those good-looking timberland boots of his.

Wow... Visuals, Lena.

And as cliche as it sounds, she didn't think she could ever forgive him for it.

“Wait. Please just hear me out. I've been trying to talk to you for—”

“Shut your lying face up, twat.” He wasn't lying though. He'd tried calling her, texting, WhatsApp-ing. Name it. “Are you so daft? Did it even occur to you that maybe the reason I didn't pick up or reply to any of your stupid messages is because I have absolutely no interest in talking to you?”

“For the love of God, just—”

“I know the Bible talks about forgiveness and all, but I'm pretty sure Jesus would hold my purse while I kicked your ass.” She gave him a look.

He sighed in frustration, running his hands through his hair. “Don't be so stubborn. Just listen to me. That night was a mistake. I drank too much and I didn't know what I was doing.”

Jesus. It had to be the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. “We had one argument. One fucking argument. And then you stormed out. And what you're trying to tell me is that you ended up naked in a hotel with that crazy bitch riding you?” She laughed humorlessly. “If you expect me to believe that, then you're out of your fucking mind.”

If that was his pathetic attempt at an excuse, then he really was stupid. Matt and Lena had been a little shaky for a few months. They'd been walking on eggshells, treading carefully. She loved him. And he'd love her. At least, that was what she was led to believe. They had fights, big and small, and every single time he ended up with someone else. Lena tried to make herself believe that eventually their love would triumph, despite everything they went through. She desperately wanted to believe it. Because, goddammit, she didn't want to lose him. To lose the only person she had.

But not anymore. What we allow is what will continue. She wasn't brought into this world to suffer, she'd decided. One day she just didn't care anymore. If you wanted to walk out of her life, then go ahead. Hell, she'd hold the door wide open for you.

Lena didn't realize he'd come close to her until she felt his hands curl round her body.

What?!

“Get the fuck away from me, you idiot!” She shoved him off with all the energy she could muster. Without thinking, she emptied the now warm cup of coffee on him.

Giving him one last glance, she turned around and walked away from him. It was like something entered her because right then, she didn't feel just anger anymore.

She was mad.

Furious.

Red. All over.

“And another thing!” she yelled, turning on her heels to meet his eyes. “Quit telling people that you 'lost' me as if you're some sort of victim in this whole story. Try telling the truth for once in your miserable life—you had something good and you fucked it up all by yourself. How many more chances did you expect to get huh? How many tears did you think I was going to give you? 'Lost me.'...you didn't lose shit. You had two choices—to do better or to stay the same. Ironically, I had the same choices you did. So, while you chose to stay the same, I chose to do better... and fucking leave.”

She hadn't expected it to hurt this much but it did. It fucking did. And she hated it.

Lena took several breaths to calm down, mostly because she could feel her eyes becoming moist. Crying in front of this idiot would be a huge blow to her ego.

Matt was standing there all wet, looking flabbergasted. She'd honestly never spoken to him that way before. Thank God. Maybe now he'd really realize that she was dead serious.

“Lena. Please. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. You're the only good thing I have,” he sniffed.

“Had,” she corrected. “Only good thing you had.”

God. Common sense was so rare these days that it should be classified as a super power.

“One more chance. To prove myself. That's all I'm asking for,” he pleaded as he swiped at a drop of coffee that threatened to blind his right eye.

“I'm done, Matt. I've moved on. You should do the same. The pity train have just derailed at a corner of Suck-It-Up-and-Move-On and crashed into We-All-Have-Problems before getting to a stop at Get-The-Hell-Over-It. Good day and go fuck yourself.”

And with that, she felt him standing in the middle of the street, feeling better than she had in a long, long while.