****
Stay strong, Hope.
Stay true to you.
You can do this.
You can't keep living a lie…
"You good, HC?" Hunter's voice broke through my thoughts, distracting me from the imminent sense of doom cloaking over my heart, that had brought with it a surging urgency to run like hell.
"I'm uh…" Swallowing deeply, I forced myself to push the truck door open and climb out. "Not really." Closing the door behind me, I swung around and looked up at him. "But I will be," I whispered.
One look at his face and I knew I was doing the right thing.
For me.
Inhaling a deep, calming breath, I put one foot in front of the other in the direction of my husband's house.
Hunter trailed after me as I walked to the front door, giving me space, but still lurking in the background, ready and willing to jump in and back me up at a second's notice.
Knowing he was there, the driver of my own personal getaway car, I mustered up the courage to open the front door and walk inside.
"Don’t come in," I whispered, turning back to look at Hunter. "I need to do this on my own."
I watched his jaw tick multiple times over, but he nodded stiffly and then sparked up a cigarette. "I'll be right out here, sweetheart."
Knowing that was the only reason I felt strong enough to walk inside.
The sight of Annabelle standing in the middle of Jordan's kitchen was the last thing I had expected to see when I walked inside.
Instantly, I felt my face heating to the point I felt like I was two seconds away from bursting into flames.
This was going to be hard enough without her standing around as a spectator.
"Finally," Annabelle snapped, glaring at me like I was the biggest piece of shit on the planet. "The prodigal wife decides to return." The moment she locked eyes on my face, she physically blanched. "What," she hissed, pointing at my face, "is that?"
Immediately, my hand shot up to cover my cheek, a complete kneejerk reaction. "I had an accident," I squeezed out, feeling the anxiety claw at my gut.
"An accident." She arched a finely plucked brow. "With what; a lawnmower?"
The sting of her comment caused every insecurity I had ever felt to burst to the surface, but I would rather die than let her see the vulnerability inside.
"Where's Jordan?" I quickly diverted the conversation by asking. "I need to talk to him."
"Waiting for me to pick him up from the hospital," she sneered, huffing out a breath. "But then you'd know that, if you turned on your phone once in a while."
"The hospital?" I balked. "Why – what happened to him?"
"Like you give a shit," she spat.
"Tell me, dammit," I snapped. When she moved to walk past me, I grabbed her arm and swung her around to face me. "What the hell happened to him?"
"You happened, you fucking whore!" Annabelle roughly shook my hand off before placing both hands on my chest and shoving me hard. "He fell off the wagon because you are a dirty, lying slut who's been spreading her legs for the felon," she practically screamed into my face.
My world collapsed in the moment it took to register the words she'd just spoken.
He knew?
He knew…
Staggering backwards from the force of her shove, I caught myself unsteadily on the table, breaking my fall.
But I was unable to catch the shattered fragments of my world as it crumbled around me.
"How…." My voice trailed off as I tried to make sense of what she was telling me. "What did he… how did he –"
"How did he find out that you're a skanky, little tramp, or how did he end up in hospital?" Annabelle filled in heatedly. "He found the messages on your computer. The messages that go into great detail about how you've been fucking Lucky behind his back."
I felt like the ground had fallen out between my feet.
"My messages?" Confused, I shook my head and strived to make sense of what she was saying. "I don’t…"
"I showed him," she snarled. "Everything."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I am sick to death of watching you get away with every damn thing you do," she practically screamed. "It's like you can do no wrong. Well, I'm sick of it. I can't fucking stand it. Oh, and he's okay, by the way," Annabelle sneered. "No thanks to you."
"I didn’t do –"
"Any of this on purpose?" she mocked, interrupting me again. "Well boo-fucking-hoo, because you've ruined him, Hope. Do you get that? Do you understand just how much you've destroyed that man? Jordan took his bike out and drank himself into oblivion because of you. He got in a wreck that could have cost him his life!" Her voice rose with every word she spoke. "You are lucky as hell that he's not seriously hurt, because if he had anything worse than a concussion and a hangover, I would strangle you right here and now with my bare fucking hands."
"I need to talk to him," I strangled out. Eyes stinging with unshed tears, I moved to pass her, but Annabelle stopped me with another shove to my shoulders. I shook my head, gaping at the horrible bitch in front of me.
"Don’t you even think about going near him," she warned, pushing me hard again and this time I cracked my hip against the edge of the kitchen table. "You've done enough damage to that man."
I hated her.
Always had.
Now, I felt one hundred percent validated.
"Don’t ever put your hands on me again," I warned her, struggling to find the composure I needed to turn the other cheek.
"Or what?" she taunted. "You'll have your boyfriend take care of me?" Determined to torment me, Annabelle stepped closer, blocking my exit, clearly trying to intimidate me. "You're not even going to bother denying it anymore, are you?" she demanded, pointing her perfectly manicured finger in my face. "And I was so looking forward to the 'I didn’t know what I was doing, please feel sorry for me' bullshit you're so used to spewing to every man in your life."
"Standing on the sidelines looking in doesn’t tell you shit," I spat when she intercepted my move and once again blocked me from leaving. "You don’t know me, Annabelle. You have no fucking clue about my life, so stop pretending you do!"
"I know you're a pathetic little daddy's girl who thinks every man around her should fall at her feet. I know you are a liar and a cheat," she shot back heatedly, "with an ugly heart and even uglier face!"
"Move!" Breathing hard, I jutted my chin out and tried to side step her. "I mean it, Annabelle. Get out of my way."
"So you can run straight to Jordan and spew some bullshit story you've fabricated?" she seethed, tone furious. "Nu-uh, Honey. Not a chance in hell."
My stomach was twisting up in knots, the confrontation making me feel lightheaded, but I wasn’t taking any shit from her. She wasn’t perfect either, dammit, and I was just about done with being trampled over.
No more.
"Get out of my way," I warned, heart hammering in my chest. "Or I'll make you."
"Threats?" She rose a brow in disdain. "Is the little princess turning all badass." She took another step towards me, and I had to step back to avoid physical contact. "Looks like your boyfriend is rubbing off on you." Leaning into my ear, she hissed, "Fucking a convicted killer? How do you sleep at night?"
"She doesn’t," a familiar male voice replied, startling us both. "This convicted killer keeps her up with his killer cock."
My attention immediately turned to Hunter, who was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching the showdown with a dangerous glint in his blue eyes.
"How dare you step foot in Jordan's house," Annabelle screamed, swinging around to glare at Hunter. "Have you any respect? Coming into this house after what you've done!" She was spitting her words like bullets, but I took note of how she took several steps back from me, giving me the space I had repeatedly asked her for.
The moment the path was clear, I made a beeline for Hunter, not stopping until I was at his side. He threw a casual arm over my shoulder and drew me into him. "You good, HC?" he asked, offering me a soothing wink.
I nodded, feeling totally shaken up.
I was not a confrontational person, I left that to Teagan, but this woman rattled my cage like no one else.
Hunter turned his attention to Annabelle then and gave her one of those "and what?" looks he so often sported.
"You two make me sick," Annabelle choked out in an appalled tone.
"Well, aren't you a fucking piece of work," Hunter mused, unaffected, with a cocky smirk etched firmly on his handsome face. "Goddamn, didn’t see that streak of black in your heart coming." Sighing dramatically, he added, "I'm guessing he hasn’t seen it yet, either." Shrugging, he said, "Which explains why you're still here."
"What are you talking about?" Annabelle demanded, face turning bright red.
"You and your shady ass," Hunter shot back coolly. "Acting all put out when you're anything but."
"Excuse me?" Annabelle looked like she was two seconds from her head spinning clean off her shoulders. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Hunter chuckled. "Ah, the what's that supposed to mean come back. The question every woman spouts to a man when they know exactly what he means." He tilted his head to one side and smiled. "You ain't fooling anyone here, Blondie. You wanted this to happen. In fact, I'd even go as far as to say you were banking on it." Shrugging, he added, "Who better to pick up the pieces than you?"
"You're wrong," Annabelle spat. "I'm invested in Jordan. In his recovery. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, and you are hindering every ounce of progress he's made."
"Am I?" Hunter shot back calmly. "Really? Because it looks to me like you've had a big hand in that."
"How dare you –" she began to scream, but Hunter cut her off with a humorless laugh.
"Don’t even bother denying it," he continued to say, arching a brow. "You're obsessed with him. Moving in with him, and staying when he was trying to start over with Hope? Fuck that shit. Talk about having an ulterior motive. Oh, and to top it all off, you have your kid call him daddy?" Shrugging, Hunter shook his head and said, "You, lady, are one crazy bitch."
The sound of the front door slamming had me swinging around in surprise.
But I wasn’t prepared for what I would see.
I wasn’t prepared in the slightest for the turbulence of emotions that battered through my heart when my eyes landed on Jordan standing in the hallway.
He was glaring at me like I was a stranger in his home.
An imposter.
And maybe I was.
Because I certainly wasn’t the woman I used to be.