Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)

I push him out too and slam the door behind them, locking it and walking into my office.

I stare at the front door to her studio, my eyes wide as she walks away, disappearing from sight and into a room on the left. I frown, wondering what the hell happened in there. She went from zero to sixty within point two seconds.

I turn around slowly, my gaze flitting to the other man who is standing on the path with me.

Narrowing my eyes, I take note of his disheveled blond hair and the clothes that he’s wearing; clothes that clearly don’t fit him—at least not in the way that mine do. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t have them tailor-made.

A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips at that thought.

He’s her ex-husband. She was married but the ex part means that he’s no longer in the picture. Maybe that’s why she moved back home?

My back straightens and I stand to my full height as I stare at him for a beat, waiting for him to walk down the path first. There’s no way that I’ll be moving until he does.

We both might be her past, but he has no way to come back from a divorce.

“She’ll never love you again,” he grinds out, his fists clenching beside him.

I raise a brow, taunting him. “That right, asshole?”

He falters before he pushes his shoulders back, standing up to his full height which matches mine. “You fucking left her a broken mess, you don’t deserve to be here!”

My stomach bottoms out at his words. He’s right, I know he’s right, but that doesn’t stop the overwhelming need I have right now to punch him in the face. He got her for longer than I did.

I didn’t get to see her walk down the aisle toward me the way I’d always imagined, I didn’t get to stand by her side as she opened her dream studio. I. Wasn’t. There. I know that and it fucking kills me, but him saying that has no bearing on what does or doesn’t happen from here on out.

The fact is that I haven’t got a clue how I feel about her being back. I’m lost; lost in the deep blue ocean with no shore in sight.

I shrug, acting indifferent when really his words bat around my brain like a baseball in a batting cage. “I may have left her a broken mess,” I start, taking a step toward him. “But both you and I know that she’s done with you.”

His face turns a nasty shade of red as he takes two steps toward me. “You’ll say anything to make yourself feel better, huh? I was there for her when you weren’t.”

I close the distance, taking one more step and coming nose to nose with the fucker who got to hold her every night. “You may have been there then, asshole.” I point to my chest. “But I’m here now.”

He points at the door. “Are you? ’Cause from where I’m standing, you’re as much on the other side of that door as I am.”

I don’t move my gaze from his, determined not to lose this unsaid staring match that we’re in. “I may be now… but I’ll be back here tomorrow, and then the Saturday after… and the one after that… unlike you.”

His nostrils flare, his face becoming redder as he shifts his stance slightly, letting the light above us shine over him. I don’t see his fist until it’s centimeters from my face, and by then it’s too late. His knuckles connect with the sensitive skin underneath my eye, making me wince as the pain explodes across my face.

I don’t let it show though, I grit my teeth, shaking my head before biting out, “I’ll let you have that one, but hit me again and you can bet your ass that I’ll have you thrown in jail.” I narrow my eyes, trying my best to ignore the throbbing sensation that is now working it

s way over my eye.

He opens his mouth to say something as he unclenches and clenches his hand but I don’t give him a chance to speak. “You better get off this fucking property and never come back.” I pause a beat before saying, “And if I see you here again, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it. Leave Harmony the fuck alone.”

I keep my gaze connected to his, showing him how much I mean it. Not only will I destroy his life personally, but I’ll make it my mission to obliterate him professionally.

He starts to walk backward, pointing at me. “You’re welcome to her, I only came here to apologize, but she doesn’t deserve even that. I hope you’re both very fucking happy together.” He turns his back on me before throwing, “Or not,” over his shoulder.

My nostrils flare as I watch him walk away, my hands clenching into fists at my side, begging me to go after him and hit him—harder than he hit me.

Once I hear the sound of a car starting and tires squealing, I know that he’s gone. I chance a look into the studio; the need to go back in there and talk to her overwhelming me. My feet take a step in the direction of the door, but then that little voice in the back of my mind telling me that he’s right, stops me in my tracks. I did leave her that day, I had a damn good reason, but I still left her. And he found her and pieced her back together again.

Maybe I should leave the past in the past?

Professor Green, Mr. Proz—Little secrets

Adele—When We Were Young