I was already looking for a reason to forgive him.
So it didn’t allow me anger.
It didn’t allow me disgust or guilt or envy.
Because allowing those things would bring me hope that Jericho wasn’t lost to me forever and that…my rending heart could not do.“Shit.” Groaning, I leaned over when my eyes opened on their own. I snatched my phone from the nightstand to check the time.
It was only nine thirty.
Why the fuck was I awake?
Tossing my phone back, I relaxed and tried to sleep again, but my mind wouldn’t stop sounding the alarm. I must have tried for ten minutes before giving up and rising out of bed. Thankfully, I’d worn pants to bed because I was on a mission when I stormed from my room.
I fully intended to ensure whichever of my friends chose to die at this ungodly hour went painfully. I didn’t slow my stride until I passed Rich’s room and saw him shuffling out with one eye open and his hair sticking up everywhere.
Houston then.
Tougher to maim, but I’d manage.
I heard Rich following me, only for us both to stop when we reached the stairs. Houston was walking down the short hallway that led to his bedroom, looking just as bewildered when he spotted us.
So…what the fuck?
I didn’t have an internal alarm for anyone else. There was no one I gave a shit about that much. No one else except—
I turned away from the stairs and started back the way I had come, back toward Braxton’s room, before my mind could even finish that thought. I felt Houston and Rich behind me as I knocked on her door for a minute straight with no answer. The entire time I was rationalizing that Braxton wasn’t a morning person either.
She’s probably sleeping.
I didn’t realize Houston had grown impatient and twisted the knob until my fist connected with air when the door swung open. The three of us stepped inside with matching frowns as we looked around. The bedding was rumpled but still made, which told me she hadn’t slept in it last night. The biggest clue that something was wrong, however, was all her missing shit.
Rich was the first to break free of the stupor Braxton had put us in, and I watched him walk over like a skittish kitten to the nightstand on the right side of the bed that Braxton preferred when we weren’t making her sleep in the middle.
I hadn’t even noticed one of our chef’s knives sticking out of the wooden surface handle up.
When Rich just stood there staring at the knife instead of telling us why Braxton murdered our furniture, I walked over with Houston on my heels.
“What’s up?” I asked him when I came to stand next to him. Rich was already pale as fuck, but right now, he looked like he’d either seen a ghost or was a ghost.
When he still didn’t say shit, I looked at the knife. And then I glanced at the papers pinned underneath, but it was my medallion she’d left as well and the words carved into the wood that held my attention.
Happy Anniversary.
“Happy anniversary?” I mused out loud. Reluctantly, I lifted my medallion from the table and slipped it inside my pocket rather than around my neck. I was annoyed at Braxton’s audacity to give it back like we were over, but I wasn’t entirely upset. The medallion wasn’t what I had in mind for her to wear for me anyway. Braxton deserved something that had meaning and she was going to get it.
“It’s September third,” Rich mumbled. They were his first words since waking up.
Why did that date sound so familiar?
He looked up, saw the question in my eyes, and said, “My wedding date.”
Shit.
My gaze was drawn back to the papers Braxton had skewered directly in the center with Rich’s signature in the top right corner for some reason. This time I paid attention long enough to notice what they were.PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE
In the Matter of the Marriage or Registered Domestic Partnership of:
Jericho Noble (Petitioner)
and
Emily Noble (Respondent)Date of marriage/domestic partnership: September 3, 2013
Place of marriage/domestic partnership: Multnomah County, Oregon
Date of petition for dissolution:
April 9, 2018Irreconcilable differences between the parties have caused the irremediable breakdown of their marriage/domestic partnership.I skipped over the rest of the legal jargon until I reached the part that painted a vivid picture of how thoroughly Rich had fucked us. It wasn’t enough for him to stick the knife into Braxton’s back, which she had categorically left behind to make her feelings clear.
No.
I blew out a breath.
He had to drive it to the fucking hilt.
He had to make sure we didn’t stand a chance of getting her back.
Because Jericho Noble was as much a sadist as he was a masochist.
He buried himself in angst and pain, and when that wasn’t enough, he inflicted more.