Twenty Eight

Whenever I pictured Callie in my head, I always pictured a troll. Why? Because it helped. And because it's how I saw her as a person for what she'd done to Joel, but unfortunately, the woman before me wasn't a troll.

She was gorgeous.

Tall, with long blonde hair and a well-endowed chest. She was dressed impeccably, in stilettos and a short red cocktail dress, perfect makeup to match. The woman was a bombshell. The perfect cross between mature and sexy. And the opposite of me in every regard.

I tugged on my tank top nervously.

"Um, Callie?" She looked shocked that I knew her name. Meanwhile, I was praying I was right, and that there weren't other women who would have the key to his front door.

"Yes. I'm sorry, who are you?" She didn't sound rude, just confused, still blinking her big blue eyes at me.

"Oh, um, sorry. I'm Jen. Jennifer." I stepped forward, extending my bell pepper hand to her manicured one. She shook my hand tentatively, her grip weak, as if she would rather be doing anything else.

"Okay. Is Joel here?" She stepped past me, hanging her keys on the hook by the door in such a familiar way that it crushed me. Of course. She's here to see Joel. Her ex-husband. My boyfriend.

"Ahm, well, he's-" On cue, I heard the mudroom door open and shut, followed by Joel's hasty steps towards the front door. He didn't bother taking his shoes off. He must've seen her car.

He jogged into view, coming to a dead stop as his eyes landed on Callie. Then, they flickered to me, silently asking if I was okay. I gave him a small smile and nod, and he turned back to her.

"What're you doing here?" Okay, so at least she wasn't expected company that he forgot to mention. She shifted in her heels, reaching into her bag for a small box with a red bow.

"Happy Birthday." Her eyes were trained on him, and suddenly I felt out of place. He furrowed his brow, stepping forward to take the box.

"Thank you?" He waited for her to continue. She pulled her ruby lip between her teeth.

"I also need to talk to you. Alone." She didn't look at me, but she didn't have to for me to know I was a burden. Did she even know I was his girlfriend? Probably not, considering how surprised she looked to see me. God, I wished the floor could swallow me whole.

Joel turned to me with an apologetic smile, placing his hand on my upper arm. "Why don't you finish dinner? I won't be long."

"Yea. I, um, I think I'll grab a drink while I'm at it." I laughed, attempting to lighten the mood, but Callie scoffed, crossing her arms.

"I didn't realize you were old enough to drink."

"Callie." Joel warned. What did she just say? Damn it, where was my fight? Where was the rage, the hellcat that came out everytime Callie crossed my mind? She was cowering in the deep recesses of our mind. Because seeing her beside him made it real. I was competing with the love of his life. "Baby?"

Joel's voice of concern pulled me from my musings.

"Okay. Yea, I'll um, be in the kitchen." He didn't kiss me goodbye, but what did I expect? Callie was here.

I stepped out of the room, barely catching him whisper, "Let's talk in the studio."

I was on autopilot, slicing and sauteing vegetables without a thought to what I was doing. My thoughts were being held hostage by the two other people in this house.

What was she doing here? What did she give Joel for his Birthday? And what did she need to talk to him about?

As far as I knew, she hadn't seen him in months. That was how divorces normally worked without children, you know, after the settlements were passed. So what else did she have to say to him?

A pain panged my chest as I immediately considered the worst. What if she wanted to give their marriage another try? Would he go for that? I wanted to say no, but I couldn't deny the history there. He dedicated a decade of the three he'd been on this earth to that woman. He obviously cared about her. Hell, he still carried the ring.

Shit, I was crying. This was stupid, sitting here alone fretting over two adults having a discussion. If Joel didn't want me, I wouldn't be here. We had gone through hell for him to finally come to terms with his feelings for me, so I had to trust that he wouldn't throw it all out the window after seeing his ex once. The ex who left him because of a condition he couldn't control. The ex who accused him of being unfaithful before a judge, just to make herself look better. She was a bitch. He wouldn't want her back. Right?

The rich smell of soy sauce and buttered veggies filled the kitchen. The food was done, but they were still talking. Was I supposed to let him know that dinner was ready?

I didn't want to interrupt.

Then again, I really did. I hated that she was getting even a second of his time, and I wanted her out of this damn house so I could breathe again.

So I mustered my courage, straightening my clothes one last time before heading towards the studio. The last time I was here was last Friday, when he insisted on using me as his muse again, butt-naked of course. I wanted to smile at the memory, but the whispers down the hall had my stomach in my throat. All I had to do was knock, tell him dinner was ready, and walk back. No big deal.

The door was cracked, artificial light spilling through the frame. As I neared, the whispers stopped. It was silent. Did they hear me coming? I took one last deep breath, my steps becoming more confident knowing that they expected me.

But they didn't.

They didn't expect me at all.

As I pushed open the door, their eyes were closed, while mine were wide fucking open.

The fire. The raging fire, doused in an instant with a big-ass bucket of ice-cold reality.

As I stood there, taking in the way his hands sat naturally on her waist as his lips took hers, I tried to justify watching it. I was waiting for him to push her away, for him to disengage, claiming that she forced herself on him. But in the ten seconds I stood there, he never made a move to stop it. No. His tongue was down her fucking throat.

'*I love kissing you.*'

Ha.

Hahaha.

If I could breathe, I would've laughed. But the humor wasn't making it to my body. It was frozen in the shock of the scene playing out before me.

I was such an idiot. Such a fucking fool. What the hell was I doing here?

The pain surfaced, pulling my legs back down that hall for the last time. I was moving slowly, but my mind was racing.

I needed to get out of here. But we weren't in a place that I could walk back to my apartment from. Shit.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, resisting the urge to smash the fucking thing against the wall, just because he gave it to me. My fingers traveled down my contacts list, landing on Danny. I was a moment from pressing call when the hellcat came out to play.

No. Fuck this.

I scrolled further, pressing call and holding it to my ear as I climbed the stairs towards the bedroom.

"Jen? What's up?"

"Hey. If I give you an address, could you pick me up?" My voice was hushed and urgent, my body teeming with adrenaline.

"Of course. Yea, of course." I heard him whisper to someone in the background, likely excusing himself. "Where are you?"

"Thirteen o' six Redford Blvd." I snatched my clothes from the hamper, shoving them back into my overnight bag as quickly as possible. Just seeing the bed was making my legs shake, and I was eager to get out. I knew my toothbrush was still in the bathroom, but I would buy a new one. It wasn't worth the seconds of my time.

"Okay. I'm not far from there. Maybe five minutes max. I'll be there soon." I thanked him and said goodbye, thankful that he didn't ask if I was okay. If he had, I might not make it out the damn door before losing my mind.

I practically ran back down the steps, taking them two at a time, before jogging to the mudroom for my shoes. I crossed back through the kitchen, taking in the sight of the meal I cooked for him, the man who used me. I scoffed, grabbing the wok and tossing it haphazardly into the sink. Fuck him.

The loud noise probably alerted them, but I didn't give a fuck. I was done. So beyond done trying to force a relationship I had no business being in. It was a moot effort, and I knew it from the beginning.

Because fates a cruel bitch.

And soulmates were bullshit.

The sound of footsteps rushing down the hall took my attention. Fuck.

He rounded the corner in seconds, out of breath, presumably because of his little makeout session with his trophy wife.

"Jen, are you okay?" He rushed out. I raised my brows at his inquiry.

"Oh, just fucking great." I said with a plastered smile, tugging up my bag straps. His frantic eyes traveled to my stuff tucked neatly under my arm, down to my shoes, then back to my voided gaze.

"Shit." He swore, as realization sank in.

"Oh no, don't let me interrupt. It was a sweet reunion. One hell of a Birthday gift." I moved to step past him, but he unsurprisingly blocked my path.

"Jen, listen to me-"

"No, Prof. I think I'm done listening to you." I replied sharply, trying for the other side, but his arm wrapped around me, pulling my bags from my shoulder.

"Jen, calm down so I can talk to you." He urged, but I wasn't having it. I refused to be the ignorant child anymore. I refused to be his toy. I tried to break free, but he pulled me to him, attempting to lift me from the floor.

"Let me the fuck go!" I screeched, shoving off of him the hardest I could. It worked, catching him off balance and sending me ass first into the hardwood. It hurt like a bitch, but I wasn't free yet, so I crawled my way to my bags, snatching them back as quickly as possible as he jumped back to his feet.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you leave." He stated, with what I'm sure he thought was perfectly reasonable authority, catching my wrist this time, tugging me back towards the living room. I screamed in protest, knocking over and shattering the lamp on the end table in my frantic attempt to fight his pull. Glass sprayed everywhere, but I couldn't tell if I was hit. My adrenaline was through the roof, and I only wanted to get out.

"Let go! Let me go!" And before he could argue, I lowered my mouth to where he had me caught, biting down until I tasted iron.

"Son of a bitch, stop!" He shouted, shoving me onto the couch with painful force and trapping me in his arms. I turned my face, but he caught it, lifting my chin until I was forced to look at him. "I know I fucked up, but it's not ending this way!"

"Get off!" I sobbed through my chattering teeth, kicking against him. But he moved to straddle my legs, locking me in place.

"Stop screaming!" His voice boomed, echoing around me. I was trembling now, burying my nails into his forearms as my last means of defense. Where had the passion gone? This was terrible. Crazy. Dangerous. I was genuinely terrified, afraid of the wild eyes that once excited me. I let out a mangled cry. His eyes widened. "Baby…" He cooed, his voice softening as he took in my condition. "No, don't be scared. I'm sorry, Jennifer. I wanted to say I'm sorry." He flattened his palm against my cheek, trying to console me.

"I need to go, Professor Becker." I choked out through my tears. His eyes shot back to mine, panic surging anew.

"What? No. Don't call me that. Jennifer, please, don't go. I don't want her anymore. That was just-" The doorbell rang, stopping him midsentence. I had never been so thankful for me thinking ahead. His gaze flickered to the door, then back to me, pleading.

"Let me go. If I don't answer, he's going to call the cops." I reasoned with a shaky voice. His brows furrowed.

"Jennifer, who did you call?" He asked. I swallowed, trying to rally whatever courage was left in me.

"June." This time, he knocked, and I heard the vibration of my phone from my pocket.

"Fuck." He cursed, moving his attention back to me. "Jennifer, please. Tell him to leave. We'll talk through this."

I shook my head. There was no way in hell. I knew our patterns by now. The unhealthy cycle would continue, and I would be right back at square one. I was suffocating, choking beneath him. Everywhere I went I was constantly asking myself if things I said or did would upset him. We needed space. I needed space. June was my pass out of here, my breath of fresh air.

He pressed his forehead to mine, sliding his free hand to cling to my hip, his thumb running over my exposed skin. He was getting desperate, holding me close. It was breaking my heart to see him this way.

"Baby, I don't want to lose you, too. I need you. I'm sorry. Please, don't leave. Let me fix it. I can fix it." His eyes were watering, his voice breaking, and I knew that if I didn't leave now, I never would. I wanted to believe him. But I couldn't afford to trust him right now. Not after the betrayal. Not after seeing his possession for what it was.

So I said the one thing I knew would get me out that door.

The one thing that would break him.

"I don't want you anymore."

His shoulders fell with his short sigh, along with his tears, as he tried to process the words I swore I would never say. But I knew I had to. This wasn't who I wanted to be. This wasn't what we were supposed to be.

He stared at me for awhile, his countenance crumbling with every passing moment that he waited for me to take it back. But I never did. As much as it pained me, I held his gaze. His lost and broken gaze. I felt his tears hit my cheek, trickling down to the corners of my lips.

"I'm sorry." The words came out as a distant whisper. The fire was gone, leaving emptiness behind. He had shut down, his walls going up as his weapons retreated.

I was free.

So why did it hurt so much?