I saw red at her words. “If you ever come back here, I’ll have you arrested. You’ll be served with a restraining order, bet on it,” I said, hot on her heels as I followed her out.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Rhys. I won’t be back.”
I slammed the door on her back, eliciting an enraged scream as it hit her in the ass. Violet was right, the porch was cursed.
Fuck. Fuck. Why is she doing this?
I felt my phone vibrate.
VIOLET: I am sitting in the tub and could use a war story.
I had been telling her tales over the phone last night that I’d heard over the years of BDSM scenarios gone wrong. They seemed to fascinate her. She had laughed hysterically. I loved that sound.
RHYS: Now is a bad time.
VIOLET: Everything okay?
RHYS: Yes, just perfect. Enjoy your soak.
I was too angry to think about my response to her until later that day.
The more I thought about my behavior, the more I thought about her—Violet, not the evil bitch that showed up at my door. She was non-existent and I refused to entertain her. If she wanted me thinking about her, she’d failed.
My thoughts were of the woman who had captured me completely with her body first and then her words. I wanted to apologize to her but disliked the idea of doing it over the phone. She’d put up with much worse from me, but she didn’t deserve it this morning, or then for that matter. How the hell could I make it up to her if I couldn’t see her, touch her?
The image of the night I found her on that floor covered in blood flashed through my mind. I got her help text and made it to her house in fifteen minutes. I should have called the police, but I didn’t know where she was, so to be sure I went there first. The rest repeated on an endless, slow motion cycle when I thought about it. The door was open, the screen closed, and I immediately felt a heaviness in my chest I never knew was possible. I opened the door while dialing, afraid to touch her. There was so much blood. There was no way I would ever recover if she were dead. I knew then I would never be the same without her in my life. When I reached her, I knelt down, checking for a pulse. It was there, weak, but there. I scooped her up in my arms, applying pressure to the source of the blood escaping her neck.
She was alone in a house in Grand Cayman. Fuck.
If she only knew how that affected me every day she’d been gone, how worried I was about her safety, she wasn’t concerned about it in the least. Or, if she was, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t want to scare her by voicing mine. Then again, I had gotten into her house through an unlocked door the night I confronted her about her husband.
I’d never been anywhere close to doing anything like that with anyone else. I should have given her a chance to explain. Then maybe she wouldn’t be off on some island wondering where the hell my head was at and why I didn’t tell her what I should have a month ago.
The guilt I felt while she lay in that hospital bed consumed me. I wouldn’t fuck up like that again, not with her.
When I had laid Bryce down for the night, I called to apologize.
“I’m sorry. I had a bad morning.” I didn’t even let her finish her hello.
“I figured. What happened?” I could tell she was on edge. I’d probably done that to her. She didn’t deserve it.
“Can we not talk about it right now?”
“No secrets,” she reminded me.
“This isn’t a secret. We can call it a delayed conversation,” I gritted out.
“Nice. I can tell you are still angry. I wish I could serve you some ass to take it out on.” I could practically see the smile she was wearing and groaned in reply. Fuck, she was perfect.
“And this is why I couldn’t get anything done at work today.”
“Tell me about music,” she murmured, her voice putting me at ease.
“Music?”
“Yeah, tell me what you like.”
“I have a thing for good guitar solos,” I said, my mood evening out for the first time today. I climbed the stairs and checked on Bryce then went to my room to strip and bathe.