Burned

Chapter 10—Powderkeg

I CANNOT BELIEVE this is f*cking happening right now.
“Please, just stay in here,” Finnley begs for the third time as I watch her quickly throw on a short, black robe she grabs from the end of the bed.
I cross my arms in front of me, silently fuming, as she rushes towards the door. She looks back over her shoulder at me, her brown eyes filled with worry and sadness.
“Please,” she whispers brokenly one last time before turning away and rushing down the hall, the door pulling closed behind her.
I hear her footsteps as she races down the stairs followed by the sounds of murmured voices before I finally let the anger that’s been simmering just under the surface since I head him speak her f*cking name boil over. Picking up a pillow from the end of the bed, I bunch it in my hands and then chuck it as hard as I can at the mirror hanging behind the door, equal parts pissed off and grateful that it wasn’t something harder. Gripping my hands in my hair so tight my eyes start to water, I pace around the room while the voices down below get increasingly louder.
I should have made her tell me what the hell was going on with Jordan before I started any of this shit with her. F*ck, separated could mean anything from him staying in a hotel for a week while they worked out their problems to her getting ready to leave his ass for good. I was a complete and total dumbass for immediately assuming the latter. My thoughts had been centered on Finnley, on getting inside her sweet body with the hope of sating my curiosity and removing all traces of her from my heart and mind once and for all. I’d planned on leaving here today with all traces of my infatuation with Finnley wiped from my mind and without another look back. I didn’t expect for one taste of her to turn into an addiction, never imagined that f*cking her would only solidify my obsession. This woman, who’s spent years dominating my headspace, is suddenly under my skin and in my blood and now I can’t imagine not f*cking her every day for the rest of my life. I’ll be damned if that f*ck head Jordan Castillo is going to ruin my chances with her once again.
Snatching up my jeans and t-shirt from the foot of the bed where I’d tossed them before our second round of mind-blowing sex, I quickly get dressed and walk over to the door. I quietly pull it open just a crack and crane my neck to listen, not giving a shit that I’m eavesdropping right now.
“I’m sorry, Jordan. I’m so sorry.”
The broken apology from Finnley makes my blood boil and I grip the handle of the door so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break off in my hand.
Is she taking him back? Is she forgiving him for whatever the f*ck he did and taking him back when I’m standing right here after she just spent the past hour and a half letting me f*ck her?
My smell is still on her skin and my come is still pooling inside her body and she’s taking that f*cker back. This woman has completely f*cked me in more ways than one. The day I let her go, the memory of her and what we had together took root and it grew and grew until she became a fantasy in my mind. I placed this perfect, amazing woman so high on a pedestal in my mind that no other woman could even come close to reaching the ideal of her, but I’m quickly realizing that dreams are much better than reality. I built her up so high in my mind that there was nowhere else for her to go but crashing down.
“YOU CAN’T KEEP ME OUT OF MY OWN F*ckING HOUSE, YOU STUPID BITCH!”
The bedroom door slams against the wall and I’m racing barefoot down the stairs before I even realize what I’m doing. I completely disregard the bullshit promise I made to Finnley to stay hidden in the bedroom when I hear the fury in Jordan’s voice. I’ll be damned if I’ll sit here and hide like a little bitch while he screams at her.
I’m filled with blind rage when I walk into the living room and see Jordan’s hands wrapped tightly around Finnley’s arms as he shakes her like a ragdoll, spit flying from his mouth as he screams at her.
I fly across the room, clutching the front of his shirt in my fists and dragging him away from Finnley, stopping when his back slams against the wall beside the door—the same wall I just f*cked his wife up against. I ignore Finnley’s shouts from behind me as I press him as hard as I can into the wall and get right in his face.
“Don’t you ever touch her or speak to her like that again,” I growl.
“Collin, please!” Finnley begs, her hands grabbing onto my shoulders as she tries to pull me off of Jordan.
“You f*cking WHORE!” Jordan screams as he looks over my shoulder at his wife.
I press my forearm into his neck, watching his eyes bulge out of their sockets and his face turn red as I cut off his air supply. “Call her a whore again. Go ahead. Say something else, please. Give me a f*cking reason to beat the shit out of you.”
Jordan claws at my arm while Finnley tugs on my shoulders and I let my anger slow to a simmer while I shoot daggers at the worthless piece of shit in front of me.
“Collin, he can’t breathe!”
Finnley’s strangled cry forces its way into my conscience and I finally ease up, pushing my forearm into this throat one last time before backing away. Jordan’s hands immediately wrap around his neck as he bends over, coughing and sputtering pathetically like a Goddamn p-ssy.
When he can finally breathe normally again, he stands up to his full height, puffs out his chest and glares at me, his nostrils flaring like an angry bull. I can tell he’s thinking about charging, that he’d like nothing better than to punch me in the face. I can see it in the way his chest heaves and his hands clench and unclench into fists at his sides. Aside from the tattoos covering both of his arms from wrists to shoulders and the strung-out look in his eyes, he looks like the same punk from high school. He’s taller and has a few more muscles, but I can still wipe the floor with his ass. I silently dare him to punch me. Outside of taking his wife back up to their bedroom and f*cking her brains out, I can’t think of anything I’d love more than to put him on his ass. I’ve always hated him, knowing he poached what should have been mine. I’ve spent many years wishing I could be alone in a room with him just once so I could show him who the better man is.
“I can’t believe you would do this to me,” he finally says, staring right at me, but I know his words are for Finnley.
He finally looks away from me to Finnley. I can feel the heat of her body right behind me. I can smell her skin and I can hear her breath stutter with every word he speaks, but I can’t bring myself to turn around. I refuse to see the look of anguish and regret on her face that I’m sure he’s putting there.
“Seventeen years, Finn. Seventeen years and you’re going to throw it all away by sleeping with him?” Jordan asks in disgust.
The fact I just came running downstairs from the bedroom and she’s standing here in nothing but a robe makes what happened between us pretty obvious. She doesn’t say a word to confirm or deny it, but even Jordan isn’t that stupid. I want her to choose me, to tell him that even though she married him, it’s always been me. I want her to tell him to leave and pick me. Pick me, dammit!
“Did you f*ck him in my bed?”
I take a step in Jordan’s direction and once again, Finnley’s hand comes out and grips onto my shoulder.
“Collin, you need to go. Please, just go.”
She practically sobs the words and my heart drops all the way down to my feet, so completely removed from my chest that I could drop it on the floor and kick it across the room.
I’m such a f*cking idiot.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
I speak my words with conviction even though I want nothing more than to run out of here with my tail between my legs like a wounded f*cking puppy. I feel like a Goddamn kicked puppy and I have to fight the urge to rub my sternum to ease the pain in my chest. F*ck, this woman is lethal. No matter how much it hurts, though, I will NOT leave her alone and let him hurt her again.
“F*ck you! She’s my wife and this is our house!” Jordan argues.
Finnley steps between us, placing a hand in the center of my chest to push me away from Jordan, and I finally see her face. Just like I assumed, she looks beaten down with guilt and sadness.
“Collin, please. I can handle this; it’s fine. I just need you to leave,” she tells me softly.
I can’t even stand to look at her right now, so I turn away from her and leave the house without another word.
As I drive away, I pray to God that I don’t regret leaving her alone with him. Even though I’m pissed and I’m hurt, I would never want something bad to happen to her. I would rather die than even think about any harm coming to her, no matter how broken I feel right now.
Instead of going home to my empty place, I head to the bar. I need to get drunk. Maybe an entire bottle of whiskey will wash away the singed ashes of my heart.