by Jami Denise
"Stay away from us, you home wrecking whore, or I swear to God I will kill you!" I screamed.
"Jenna!" Royal bellowed from the hallway. I looked up and watched him stalk toward me, furious.
I let go of Lana and fell into Tara’s arms. She whispered in my ear, but I didn’t hear a word. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Royal and the fury in his eyes.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he hissed. He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the hallway and pushed me against the wall.
His gaze lowered, and it was as if a spell had been broken. I lost it.
"Oh my God," I cried. "Benji! Where is he?" I sobbed.
He pulled me against his chest and kissed the top of my head. "Jesus Christ, Jenna. What the hell has gotten into you?"
"Take me to him," I murmured into his chest, distinctly ignoring his question. I truly had no idea what was wrong with me. I was crazy. My entire life had turned on its ass, and I had no navigation out of the fucked up situation.
"Come on. He's down here." He started to lead me down the corridor when Lana's voice reverberated from behind us.
"Royal," she whined pathetically.
His whole body tensed, and I heard a soft growl rumble in his chest. Turning slightly, taking me with him, he faced her. "Look, Lana, you need to take off. Abbie will call to reschedule with you. I need to take care of my family here. Work can wait," he said flatly.
"But," she started, taking a few steps toward us.
He clenched his teeth and the muscles of his jaw quivered. He was losing his temper, and that was never pretty.
"Beat it, Lana. Abbie will call you later."
With that, he turned us around and continued to walk down the hallway. We didn't talk, but I could feel the tension rolling off him. He was angry with me, but the feeling went both ways. He'd obviously missed Lana's horrible comments, and it reminded me so much of the past. The woman was an evil snake with the ability to manipulate him constantly.
"Oh, Bubba!" I cried. He looked so pitiful in that little hospital bed. He had a bandage wrapped haphazardly around his head, and his arm lay limply at his side, saddled down in a small splint.
"What happened?" I kneeled on the floor and brushed my fingers along his cheek.
"Derek pushed me off the climber. I was all the way up."
I laid my forehead against his good hand and cried. I was so grateful it hadn’t been worse, but my heart was still broken.
"Don't cry, Mommy," he said softly. "I'm gonna get a cast, and Daddy said I can get a blue one."
My eyes shot up to Royal for confirmation. "He broke his arm?"
He nodded, giving me a soft smile before looking back at Benji. "He did. They said it's not too bad, but he broke it.”
"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry you got hurt. How's your head? Does it hurt? Do you have a bump? A bruise?" I stood swiftly so I could get a better look at his head.
"He's got a good sized bump, but it's not too bad. The doctor wants to do an X-Ray just to be sure, but he's had worse. He's a big boy. He's fine." Royal shot Benji a small wink and looked back at me. "I'm going to check with the nurse to see how long it will be before he has the X-Ray. We're looking at another hour before he sees the orthopedic surgeon."
"My poor baby boy," I cooed, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
"I'm not a baby, Mommy! Gosh," he groaned.
I heard Royal chuckle before he leaned down and kissed Benji on the cheek. "Of course you're not, little man. I'll be right back. Mommy will be right here."
He nodded at me once before disappearing behind the door and into the hall. I pulled a stool over to the bed and sat down next to Benji.
"So, was the ambulance scary? Mommy is so sorry I wasn't there." I felt a tear fall from my eye and run down my face. I swatted at it quickly so he didn't see it.
"It was cool, Mommy! The fireman guy told me I was a tough kid."
I giggled and squeezed his hand. "You are a tough boy. I'm proud of you for being so brave."
Royal came back into the room a few minutes later and asked me to step in the hall with him.
He paced back and forth in front of me, fisting his hair and mumbling to himself. I couldn't help it. I started to cry again.
"I'm so sorry I turned off the phone. Don't be mad," I rambled.
He turned, eyes wide and moved in front of me. "I'm not mad at you, Jenna!"
He pulled me into his arms and sighed. "I'm not mad. I was worried. I've never seen you so mad. You could've gotten hurt!"
I shook my head and cried into his shirt. "She told the nurse she was family. That's my baby in there! Mine!"
"She said what?" He held my arms and pushed me back so he could look at me. "She's a fucking moron, Jenna. Just ignore her."
"I really hate her," I sniffed.
He chuckled. "I don't like her much either."
Chapter 18
I didn’t even remember getting into Royal’s truck. I knew I was drunk, and I knew I was pissed off, but everything else about the night blurred in the back of my consciousness. I held my head and groaned.
"If you're going to be sick, let me know so I can pull over," he said tightly before turning back onto the highway.
I turned away from him and faced the window. "Why'd you even come?" I hissed.
He shook his head. "You were making an ass of yourself. Palmer called me to come get you.”
"You're an ass!"
He gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel tightly as he sped up. When I noticed he was pulling off the freeway toward our neighborhood, I slapped my hands against the dashboard.
"Stop!"
"You getting sick?"
I shook my head. “No. I want a shake. Stop there,” I said, pointing at a burger place across the way.
He pulled into the parking lot and veered into the drive through. The sudden motion turned my stomach, but I held my breath. In front of us, there were six cars waiting, and I wasn’t in any shape to sit there and wait.
"Forget it. I'll just go inside."
I unfastened my seatbelt and started to open the door, but he grabbed my arm. "What are you doing? Stop! You can't go in there, Jenna.”
"What is your problem? I don’t want to wait.” The air felt stagnant, too thick to breath, but I wasn’t going to listen to him tell me what to do—not after what he’d done.
"Jenna, you're drunk. The kids over there go to school with the girls. I don't think you want them to see you like that."
I scowled. "Like what, huh? Tell me what I look like.”
He put the truck in park and leaned toward me, tugging on my arm again. “You look trashy, and it’s not like you. Why are you even dressed like that?”
Because of Abbie. But I wasn’t telling him that.
I smiled and let out a hysterical laugh. "Maybe I don't want to be me anymore. No one else seems to think it's enough."
"Shut your mouth. Don't talk like that,” he growled.
I tried to get out of his grip, but he was too strong. He grabbed my other arm and dragged me back into the truck and locked the doors.
“Look, you’re drunk. I haven’t seen you drunk in ten years, and I have to tell you—you’re a shitty drunk. Sit down, shut the hell up, and let me get you home.”
We made it to the window, thankfully in silence. He ordered a chocolate shake for me and a burger and fries for both of us. Just the thought of food made me want to puke.
“I’m not hungry,” I grumbled.
“Tough shit. You need to eat something, and you’ve given me a headache with your drunken jabbering.”
I huffed. “You should’ve left me there if you didn’t want to hear me talk, jerk. You never want to hear what I have to say anyway,” I babbled.
“Not right now I don’t. I can’t wait for you to pass out and shut the fuck up.”
I felt awful, and yeah, I was being hateful, so I shut my mouth and waited until we got to the house. The house was dark, which either meant the girls were al
ready asleep or still out for the night.
Royal parked out front, turned off the car and then turned to face me.
"Where are the girls?”
I groaned and shielded my eyes when the headlamp came on. “I don’t know. Out, or, I don’t know. Ugh, turn that off. Bright lights! Bright lights!”
I started giggling at my stupid joke and then groaned again. It was still way too bright. My head pounded.
"You're a mess," he said with a smile in his voice. “You need to keep it down so we don’t wake the neighbors. Use your inside voice.”
I heaved myself out of the seat and pushed at his hands as he tried to help me. "I can do it...move!"
I rolled over and heard him laugh. I situated myself so I could fix my skirt and scowled at him.
“What? I like the view?”
I pulled it down and jumped down. I bet he liked the view—sadly, he’d had the same view for over twenty years and he didn’t seem to have any reaction to it. That pissed me off further, and I stomped toward the house with purpose.
"I can't believe you walked out of the house that way," he said as he jogged up behind me. “Your whole ass is hanging out!”
Hardly. The skirt hit well past mid-thigh. "I know! I dressed myself, asshole!"
"Where did you even get this?" he asked, snapping the strap of my tank top.
I stopped and looked down at my chest and smirked. “I took it out of Macy’s closet.”
I turned to walk away again, but he grabbed my elbow and growled in my face. "Well, you look like you're trying to get fucked."
I narrowed my eyes. "Maybe I want to get fucked."
His eyes went red, and he dragged me up against his chest. "That's what you want? To get fucked, Jenna? Is that what this is all about?"
I stared at him, my chest heaving and my eyes heavy. “I hate you,” I spat.
He jumped back away from me, his face washed with shock and devastation. "What are you trying to prove, dressing up like this and going to a bar? You wanted to piss me off? Done. You wanted to make me jealous? You did that too, but this has to stop!"
I felt wild, like a rubber band pulled too tight. I swung out of his grasp, and turned on him, hitting and kicking at him with all I had. He’d destroyed me. Obliterated every spec of security and comfort I knew. His judgement and petty jabs were too much.
"I hate you! You ruined my life and I fucking hate you!"
I continued hitting him, each punch more like popcorn spit from a steam pot than an actual jab. He finally grabbed my wrists and held them between us, ending my unwinnable fight.
"Stop. Stop hitting me, and calm down, Jenna."
There was no calm at that moment, only panic and desperation. I twisted out of his grasp, slipped on the grass, and landed on my bare knees. Purely out of spite, I picked myself up and ran to the door with him hot on my heels.
I turned and glared at him. “You forgot dinner! You always forget everything!”
"I have no idea what you’re talking about. I thought dinner was tomorrow? Settle the fuck down!"
"I want a divorce!" I yelled "You don't love me, you fucking lie to me, and you lie, lie, lie, lie, so she can just have you!"
He flinched back like I’d struck him. His mouth hung open, and he shook his head but he said nothing. Not a word.
"You're wasted," he whispered finally. His voice was hoarse, like the words burned his throat. “You don’t know what you’re saying. We’re not—you know, if this is about Lana again, you’re crazy as shit. You fucking heard me tell her to fuck off. Just come with me in the house, Jenna. Don’t say another word. Please.”
I shook my head and then grabbed at my skull with both hands. It felt like a baby rattle. I couldn’t stand talking to him anymore. I just wanted him gone.
“Yeah, drop me off so you can go back to her, is that it? Why don’t you take me back to the bar since you’re obviously not going to fuck me? Or, can’t, right? I’m not what turns you on anymore, even when I’m dressed to get fucked,” I spit.
I started to the door again, ready to just climb in bed and sleep off the deadly headache. I just reached the door and grappled with my keys when he slammed behind me, pinning me against the front door. My keys slid to the floor, and the breath rushed from my lungs with the force.
I could feel the rage, the hurt, the bruised pride, all of it.
"You wanna get fucked, Jenna?"
I moaned beside myself when he grinded himself into my back and then pinned my arms up above my head.
"You think I'm not attracted to you?" He spat. "Does it feel like my cock isn't interested in you?"
I wiggled against him, trying to get my arms out of his grasp, but it was useless. He was too strong.
"Why are you acting like this?”
I cringed. "I was mad. I went to take you dinner, and I saw her car at the work site. I wanted you, and I missed you and she was there.”
He pushed himself harder against my back. "What the hell are you talking about? I wasn't there tonight. I was at my mom’s with Benji. Lily got sick, so we went over there. You knew I was coming to get Benji.”
That’s what I thought, but then he was running late, and I had to leave Ben with the girls until he got there. I thought I’d surprise him instead of going out, and I lost my shit when I saw her car.
"I bought you orange chicken and her car was there,” I whined.
He sighed and kissed the top of my head. “Are you listening to me, Jenna? I. Was. Not. There. Get it? Stubborn ass woman.”
"You weren't with her?" My voice shook. I felt so stupid. Tired. I was so tired of fighting, assuming, and crying.
"No, you drunk fool. No.”
He let go of my arms and spun me around so I was facing him. He looked tired, too, and my heart clenched. I’d been wrong. So wrong.
"But why was she there? Why does she call?"
The tears took over again, and I slumped against him. "Just stop, Jenna. Damn it, stop this.”
He slapped the door above my head and then he kissed me, hard and unrelenting with everything he had. Every emotion, every part of him. He pushed his tongue between my lips and shoved his knee between my legs, and my insides clenched.
I grabbed his hair, fisting it angrily and bit down on his lip. It seemed to spur him on because the next thing I knew, he had me off the ground and grabbed my legs to wrap them around his waist.
I grabbed, scratched, and pawed at him as he tried to get inside the house with me clinging to him like my life depended on it. It’d been too long, and whether it was the alcohol or adrenaline or what, I was a maniac. I couldn’t get enough.
Almost two months without him felt like a lifetime. I could tell he felt the same.
As we stumbled into the house, we both fell to the floor with a thud. Without breaking momentum, he held onto one hip and pushed his hand between the two of us, moving my skirt over my hips.
He slid his hand under my panties and quickly pressed two fingers inside me. I was already wet, and if I was honest, I had been since the moment he walked into the bar and carried me out like a thief in the night.
"God, yes,” I cried. “More.”
I bit down on his neck while he tore his pants down his legs with his free hand. He pumped his fingers inside of me a few more times, and then I felt him position himself to push inside.
He was frantic, and the sound that came from his chest was absolutely feral. I didn’t recognize the desperation or lust coming from him or myself, for that matter. It had taken on a life of its own as if our bodies were trying to pry away all the anger and put us back where we belonged.
I arched into him, crying out and begging for him to take me harder and faster.. I couldn’t take it. I ached everywhere. It was primal, the cry of my body for his. I wanted him to consume me, climb inside me and ease the emptiness in my heart and body.
Every thrust and every touch told me he was out to prove something. He was telling me with his body what his words had been telli
ng me for months. He did want me.
He flipped us so that I was on top and grabbed my hips. “Ride me, Jenna.”
He moved, so his hands palmed my breasts and then pulled the tank top down to expose my breasts. He drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked and then bit. The slap of our bodies, the sounds of him sucking and my panting filled the room with a thick undercurrent of lust.
This was fucking. Pure, raw, fucking. It was angry and frantic, and I was too drunk to care why it was happening.
My coordination left a lot to be desired, and each move I made was sloppy and disconnected, but somehow he knew how to straighten us up. His body knew mine—two parts of one, the halves of a whole. No matter how mad we were, our bodies knew we were a unit, and without one, the other couldn’t survive.
I stared down at him and his eyes darkened, knowing exactly what I needed. He grabbed my hips, held me steady, and drove into me over and over again.
The sounds we made continued to get louder and louder the harder we went at each other. The grunts, screams, curses, the wet slap of skin on skin, the raw need we had for each other, was overwhelming. This was a whole new level of makeup sex.
We were rebuilding a broken palace, a life we'd demolished into soot and rubble. We'd destroyed everything we stood for, everything we believed in, and everything we loved.
We spit on love, on respect and loyalty, and threw each other to the wolves to deal with the crisis alone. We hurt our children—our prized possessions—and we’d failed them. We were unrecognizable. We were no longer the couple that beat the odds. We were becoming a statistic. Cracked, fractured and split into two pieces.
We weren't us anymore.
“Royal,” I cried.
Softly, he brushed his hand over my cheek, slick with sweat and tears. "You don't get to leave me, cookie. You're mine. Forever. You said forever."
I cried harder. Cradling my back, he pushed off the floor, lifted me into his arms and slammed me up against the wall. My buzz was gone, and out of that cloud everything was clear.
"Does this feel like it's over, baby? Answer me!" he roared, entering me again.