He was a bastard. He was a rotten bloody bastard who liked fucking young girls in back alleys then telling them to get lost.

Fuck.

If he thought his relationship with Trisha was the lowest point in his life, he’d been dead wrong. Taking Lily like that… Christ, it was the most disrespectful thing he’d ever done.

Yet at the same time, William knew what had happened in the alley had been as much her choice as it had been his. And regardless of how much he hated himself for even thinking this way, he couldn’t deny that it had also felt right.

The sex, not the leaving.

He ran his hands through his hair, standing before his building and seriously contemplating running all the way to Lily’s place to tell her that he was a sorry sod who wanted to take it all back. He’d beg for forgiveness, if he had to.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

What he’d done, he’d done it for a reason.

The same fucking one that just materialized from the inky darkness on his right, scaring the shit out of him.

“Hello, William,” Trisha drawled, her jaw thrust slightly forward as it always was when she wanted something. How he ever thought that was attractive was beyond him…

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, trying to control his erratic pulse.

No such luck.

“Waiting for you.” A coy smile lingered on Trisha’s lips, but her pale blue eyes were icy. Like her bloody heart. “I came for that hard drive you still owe me.”

It took him several moments to even realize what she was referring to. Right. Their vacation photos from all those years ago, filled with false smiles and memories he’d rather erase from his mind entirely.

Somehow, Trisha had conveniently forgotten to take those when she finally cleared out of his apartment. As she had a glass vase. Then her old, beat-up bicycle. Then a selection of books he was fairly certain had never even been hers in the first place.

At the rate her requests were coming, it would be another five years before she collected everything she’d manage to think of.

Unfortunately, it was easier to just hand the shit over than go through another one of her tantrums. He drew his keys from his pocket, but stopped right before he opened the door.

What was he doing? Was he really going to let her in? Again?

This was precisely why he’d pushed away the single woman who brought meaning back into his life. He had to break the cycle if he ever wanted to even stand a chance with Lily—stand a chance with himself, actually.

But right now?

He wasn’t ready to face the consequences.

Trisha would unlock the floodgates of shitville until it dragged him under if he turned her away, and William wasn’t certain if he could take it. Submitting himself to his ex’s presence for a couple of hours seemed like the lesser of two evils. The one that wouldn’t make him drink until he was plastered enough that all that was left was for him to pass out.

Or so he hoped.

“What?” she barked, the false sweetness slipping from her tone faster than a drunk on a slippery road. “Don’t want me seeing your floozy’s things all over the flat, Will? Thought you’d get her out of your system after four months. Or are you still fucking her to add a few more ego-stroking articles to your name?”

His reply burned the tip of his tongue, but he shoved it down. He knew better than to take the bait. Regardless of how much he ached to defend Lily.

“So, what, you’re one of those men who date prepubescent girls now?” She grimaced. “What’s the catch? A shaved pussy and her parents to keep you company and chat about old times?”

He would not take the bait. He would not take the bait.

He just had to keep repeating that to himself.

“I don’t think you coming up is a good idea, Trish,” he said evenly. “It’s been a long day. And if you want something from the flat or me, our lawyers will make the exchange.”

“Really?” Her hand snaked around his wrist, yanking him back as he turned to walk away. “I let my fucking career, what would have been the best years of my life, go to waste because nothing could hold the fucking prodigy photographer down, and you won’t even take the time to hand over my shit? After all I’ve done for you, Will?”

Tremors snaked through his insides, the familiarity of the situation tightening his stomach into a nauseating knot.

So many times.

They had done this so many times, all of them ending with him bruised and her throwing things against the walls.

Again, an apology crawled up his throat, cold sweat soaking his shirt while his mind felt as if it were being torn in two.

“I never asked you to give up your career.” The words were out before he could stop them. “I might have been a shit partner who didn’t know what you needed because you refused to communicate those things with me, but I never told you to pass up any opportunity on my account. I wasn’t the one who suggested we should relocate when you got that better offer. It wasn’t my fault none of the flats were good enough. Or that you started acting like a brat because you didn’t feel like commuting like the rest of us peons had to.

“For Christ’s sake, you used my credit cards to pay for all the hotels you hired with your bloody lovers when you were supposedly too knackered to drive back home. Because having sex all night was less exhausting than sitting behind the wheel for an hour. And it certainly wasn’t me who asked you to fuck that painter and compromise your position at the gallery. I’m not the reason they fired you.” He exhaled. “Everything that happened, Trish, it was you.”

It was the truth, down to the last painful detail, but he never had the guts to say it to her face. He’d tried, once, but was cut off when Trisha smashed his camera in retaliation, then cried uncle as he attempted to contain her before her outburst turned into a full-blown rampage and wrecked their rented flat. She had threatened to report him for the small bruise blooming on her bicep, obviously not caring that the only reason it was even there was because she had been littering his own body with blotches of violet and blue.

Something—something broke deep inside him.

Fuck. For all those years, he believed that kind of relationship was normal. That he was doing something wrong, making her miserable. She wouldn’t have said those things if they weren’t true, if he didn’t deserve to hear them…

Bile burned at the back of his throat. For a moment, he thought he might throw up, but his body was too catatonic to even manage that.

He’d believed her. Believed he didn’t offer her enough freedom—that he crowded her with his affection and attention alike. A bloody arse who should consider himself lucky she even put up with him.

It was only with Lily that he began to understand just how toxic Trisha had been. How seriously he needed to get his shit together if he didn’t want his past to drag down something that had the potential to be outstanding.

Yeah, he knew that. But it hadn’t hit him just how truly fucked up all of it was. Until now.

Telling Trisha his mind, not accepting the blame for something he never did… It was a start.

Unfortunately, his ex disagreed.

The slap came out of nowhere.

His cheek stung, stomach rolling as all those memories he desperately wanted to bury came flooding to the surface all at once.

Trisha wasn’t finished. It was never over this fast.

“You bastard,” she screeched, making a move for his balls.

He spun out of the way, clamping down hard on the impulse to fight back even as the nausea grew worse. As his entire body shook. Trisha advanced again, her fingers digging into his arm and her jaw set hard.

“You won’t send me away like I’m some—”

Her words cut off abruptly as a voice sliced through the night.

“Get the fuck away from him before your charges get any worse than they already are.”