Theo

I’m still shaking with anger when I open the door to my apartment. I’ve seen the evil witch at work before, but it’s the first time she’s ever hit Mac in front of me. Now, I wonder how many times it’s happened before.

If Mac hadn’t pulled me away, I’m not sure what I would have done. I’ve never laid a hand on a woman before, but today I came pretty close.

“Sit,” I order, pointing at the couch.

When I come back from the bathroom with the first aid kit, she’s sitting with her legs curled under her, arms wrapped around her chest. She looks so fucking vulnerable.

“She has no right talking to you like that.” I crouch in front of her, opening the kit.

Mac shrugs, like she’s about to tell me it’s no big deal.

I take her arm and press an antiseptic wipe on the small cuts. “I mean it. If she ever–”

“I won’t be going back.” Her eyes are vacant, her skin pale except for the redness where the bitch slapped her.

I reach out and touch her cheek. She flinches, then relaxes, pressing her face into my palm.

“I don’t think she hit you hard enough for it to bruise, but you should put an icepack on it just in case.”

She reaches for my hand when I start to rise. Not letting go, she looks at me, then averts her eyes. “Don’t go.”

She doesn’t need to ask twice. I sit down beside her, pulling her onto my lap. Her arms go around my neck and she buries her face in my shoulder. I expect her to cry, and I almost want her to. Anything but the detached stoicism that looms over her like a gray cloud.

“I won’t let her hurt you again.” I run my hand down her back, feeling her relax into me.

Her fingers play with the hair at the back of my neck absently.

“You want to talk about what happened?” I brush her dark hair behind her ear.

She shakes her head, her fingers trailing down my chest, across my stomach, then back up.

I take a deep breath and catch her intoxicating scent. She smells so fucking good, and my body responds the way it always does when she’s close.

“Theo.” She says my name almost desperately, and her lips crash against mine.

I cradle her face, taking her kiss.

Her arms slide around my neck, fingers knotting in my hair. She moans and I nearly come undone. I’m so fucking hard it hurts. If I wasn’t sitting, her touch would have driven me to my knees.

She tilts her head, and her tongue slides into my mouth. Her hands move frantically over my body until she pulls at the hem of my shirt, urgently tugging it over my head.

Her lips are soft, but there’s nothing gentle about the kiss. It’s frantic. Desperate. Pained.

My heart is pounding hard, but this isn’t the way I want it. Not when she’s upset.

“Wait.” I grip her hands when I feel a wetness on her cheeks. “Mac, stop.”

She buries her face in my neck and I can feel the sob that she’s holding back.

I rub my hands down her arms, warming the goosebumps that cover them. Then I press a kiss on her temple, stroking her hair back.

Her breathing is labored as if she’s fighting off a panic attack.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I tuck my thumb under her chin, forcing her to look at me.

Her eyes close and her tongue darts over her swollen lips. I run my thumb over her cheek, catching a giant tear.

My stomach twists at the hopelessness I see in her eyes.

“Talk to me. Please.”

She shifts on my lap as if to move away, but I hold her hips, not letting her go.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. Her lashes flutter open and she holds my gaze. Misery is etched on her face, all of her brokenness exposed in that one look.

I want to destroy the people that have done this to her. And I would if I didn’t think it would only hurt her more.

“Please don’t hate me.” The words are so soft that I barely register them.

“Hate you?” I rest my forehead against hers and shake my head. Was she serious? “Every day you were gone, it was like a piece of me was missing. I don’t want to feel that way again.”

She sucks in an uneven breath, bringing her hand to my cheek. Her lips brush over mine, so faint I can barely feel the touch, then she pulls back.

“Don’t,” she says when I try to stop her from moving away. “I can’t be touching you when I tell you.”

I frown, letting her go, and feeling a new knot form in the pit of my stomach. “Tell me what?”

She shuffles to the other side of the couch, pulling her arms around her chest.

“Tell me what, Mac?” I repeat, making her flinch. I suddenly feel like there’s an ocean separating us.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.” She’s shaking.

“Okay.” I try not to let my growing panic edge my voice. “Go on.”

She breathes out heavily and closes her eyes, her fingers clenched into fists.

“When you kissed me. I knew you were drunk, but I didn’t know how much. I never would have…” She shakes her head, biting down on her bottom lip. “It was my fault.”

My right eye twitches, and a cold sweat starts at the base of my spine. Pictures of a distorted memory start to sharpen.

“What was your fault?” My back teeth clench so hard I’m surprised they don’t break.

“We did more than kiss that night,” she mutters.

“Fuck.” I stand quickly, feeling something inside of me break.

“Did we…” I swallow hard. “Did we have sex?”

She winces and nods.

Fuck. Parts of that night come back to me like a bad movie. Her in my bed. Me on top of her. Shit, shit, shit. This is all wrong.

Then it hits me like a hammer across my skull.

Logan.

I drag my fingers through my hair and look at her, my heart beating erratically.

“She’s mine? Is Logan mine?” The question lingers between us. When Mac doesn’t answer right away, I scream, “Tell me the fucking truth, Mac!”

“Yes.” She pulls further into herself, unable to look at me.

But right now, I don’t care.

Searing pain stabs at my chest. Time stands still.

I can’t breathe. Can’t think. I’m not even sure I can process what she’s just said.

She couldn’t have shocked me more than if she’d put a knife in my heart.

My entire body is numb. The only thing I feel is betrayal.

“Theo, I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, unable to form a complete sentence.

She’s sorry?

“Why?” Even though I can tell she’s on the verge of running, I can’t keep the rage from my voice. “How could you keep this…her… from me?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I laugh bitterly. My throat has constricted, and I’m not sure how air is getting through. Clenching my fists, I continue to pace, trying to grasp what the fuck is happening.

“I’ll go,” Mac says, standing slowly.

“That’s probably a good idea.” I need time to think.

“I’ll have our stuff packed and be gone as soon as possible. If you can just give me to the end of the week?”

I move quickly, slamming the door closed when she opens it.

“Don’t pull that bullshit on me. You think I’m going to kick you out?”

“I just thought–”

“The problem is you didn’t think. You didn’t think about any of this.” Keeping my hand planted on the door, I rake the other one across my face. “My God, Mac. How long were you going to keep this from me?”

“I don’t know.” A flicker of something crosses her face, but I’m too angry to care what it is.

I need space, but at the same time, I’m terrified to let her leave. Shit, what if she takes the kid and runs again?

My brain is still on overload. I need to hit something. The only place I can do that is the gym.

“Don’t even think about running.” I grip the door handle, my knuckles whitening around it. “Understand?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles.

I don’t know if I believe her. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to believe anything she says again.

I open the door, not able to look at her when she walks past.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says quietly.

“You didn’t hurt me, Mac. You tore out my fucking heart.”