Unintended

She smiled at me in that way she used to. A smile that used to always get under my skin. “You came to see me yesterday so I wanted to return the favour.”

I blinked. “You heard me tell you I don’t want to see you, right?”

“I did. But I didn’t believe you.” She ducked under my arm and slipped inside, and on instinct, I followed her in.

She walked into the living room, which was still sparsely furnished, but comfortable enough for me, and looked around.

“This is nice,” she said, running her hand across the sofa.

The day before, I’d been dumb enough to think she might have changed, but watching her move around my living room, I could tell immediately that she hadn’t. She was low-level angry. I could see it in the way she walked. Slowly. Deliberately.

And as much as I tried to fight it, I could feel the beginnings of panic start to grip me already.

“Natalie,” I said, not moving from the entrance to the living room, “you need to leave. Now.”

She turned to me, her eyes dangerously dark. “Who do you think you are, Ash? You get a new place to live, and suddenly you think you’re special? Well, you’re not.” She looked around. “When you’re too poor to afford a carpet, you’re not special.”

The floors were supposed to be wooden, but I wasn’t intending to get into a debate about decorating with her.

“So, where is she?” Natalie asked, taking a step towards me. “Your new woman?”

Unless she had been stalking me, there was no way she could have known I was still friends with Evie. And if she had been stalking me, she’d know I lived alone. She was guessing, trying to unsettle me the way she always did.

“I have no idea what you mean,” I told her.

“Oh, please,” she spat. “That day when you came to get your crap out of the flat, I knew you’d been fucking her!”

Ah, there she is.

Why in the hell had I put up with this shit from her for so long? Why had I allowed her to speak to me that way for more than a year?

Why had I gone to her flat yesterday when I should have listened to the voice in my brain telling me not to?

I’d given her chance after chance when we were together, and even once it was over, I still gave her the benefit of the doubt, and what had it got me? Natalie slowly getting hysterical in my flat.

Fucking idiot.

Not bothering to engage any further, I walked out to the hallway, ready to open the door. I heard her footsteps on the floor—my wooden floor—and although my insides were shaking with the anticipation of the hit she was planning to land on me, I spun around, and grabbed her wrists hard before she could do anything.

This wasn’t going to be like the last time. She could spit in my face all she wanted, but she wasn’t going to get another chance to lay a finger on me.

She glared at me as I gripped hold of her, and I glared right back.

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” I said coldly, the sound alien to my ears. I wasn’t sure I’d ever used that tone before and I didn’t want to use it again.

She laughed in my face, a bitter, almost chilling sound. “Right. Only she gets to touch you now.”

“What does it even matter to you? You made it clear over and over that you were only with me because you felt sorry for me. That I wasn’t enough for you, so why do you care what I do now?”

“I always cared!” she shouted. “You made me this way!”

A few weeks ago, that would have set me back. Made me overthink our entire relationship, trying to find all the ways she was right. That it was me. I was the problem.

But I wasn’t.

“I gave you everything you wanted, Nat. Everything you asked for, everything you wanted to do, I gave it all. But it wasn’t enough! It was like a game to you, pushing and pushing me, like you were waiting to see how long before I would break! I should have left the first time you hit me, the first time you made me feel like I was worthless, but I loved you, so I stayed, hoping things would change back to the way they were. But you? You didn’t want it back. You turned into a fucking monster, and I think you enjoyed it. Every time you hurt me, you weren’t sorry at all. You liked grinding me down!” I paused to take a breath, relief coursing through me at getting all of this out. “And if you really want to know the truth about Evie, she is worth a million of you. You can parade around in skinny jeans and tight tops as much as you want, but she has more grace, class, and sexiness than you’ll ever have.” I dragged her towards the door, forcing one of her arms down so I could push the handle. “Get. Out. And don’

t come back here again.”