“Give me my keys!” he roared.
Bridget stared at him, wide-eyed, and I could see her trembling from where I stood. She was doing a good job of holding herself together, but I could tell the mask was wearing thin. Maia moved to put her arm around her, pulling her close. I couldn’t watch this nightmare any longer.
“That’s it!” I bellowed, striding towards him. “If I have to fuckin’ throw you out, I will!”
Alex side-stepped me – impressive, considering his inebriated state – and made his way around the other side of the table, putting a barrier between us. This was no game though. My face was on fire as I struggled to keep my temper under control.
“No time for your bullshit,” I warned. “Final warning!”
“Yeah,” Alex said slowly, nodding as if he was actually enjoying this. “That’s right. That’s the real you, isn’t it? Maybe now your new girlfriend will see what kind of man you really are. S’pose you told her a bunch of shit about how you were gonna keep her safe too, didn’t ya?”
“You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”
Alex gave a huff, a kind of laugh with an edge to it that was far from funny.
“Yeah, right. I’m out of my mind,” he mumbled. “What’s the matter dude – truth hurt?”
In an instant, my blood-pressure sky-rocketed again. I hung on to one of the dining chairs in front of me, tempted to pick it up and throw it at him if that would make him shut up.
“Heath,” pleaded Bridget, just in time.
A timely reminder that we had an audience. God knew what Maia thought about any of this – I was too scared to find out.
I leaned forward, my entire body tense with the effort it took to keep my temper under control. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
“Please, Alex,” Bridget begged. “Please let me just drive you home?”
Let her, I pleaded silently, aware I was losing it and not sure how long I was able to keep up the fa?ade. Let her get you the hell away from me. Let her do it. Go.
Alex swayed on his feet for several moments, leaning on the table for support. Then he pushed himself upright and seemed to take control once more.
“You know what?” he said, eyes bloodshot and wide, as if he was having trouble seeing me. “You can all just go fuck yourselves. I don’t need this bullshit.”
And with that, he turned and staggered down the hallway. I heard the crunch of broken glass as he made his way to the back door, then it slammed shut behind him and the house was engulfed in silence.
For several long moments, we all stood there, frozen, processing what had just happened. And then the shock wore off.
I turned to Bridget just as she took a shuddering breath and fell to her knees, sobbing. Maia fell with her, trying desperately to hold her up.
You bastard. You selfish, inconsiderate, stubborn bastard!
But it was too late. He was gone. He was gone and she was there, falling apart right in front of me. I knelt down beside them as Maia stared at me helplessly. I know, I wanted to say. I know, but I don’t know what to do either.
It had gone beyond Alex just lobbing insults, picking away at me. It was far more than that now. Gone was the simmering rage of just moments ago, replaced by an all-encompassing despair that felt like it was ripping me to pieces.
I couldn’t stand to see her like this, sobbing on the floor, desolate and heartbroken. It was too much like the early days, after Em disappeared. The misery was palpable, like a living, breathing creature that had been waiting in the wings all this time, ready to swoop in if we let it.
“Come on,” I said, putting my arm around Bridget. “Let’s go into the living room and sit down.”
She didn’t move and the wretched sobbing continued.
I looked past her, at Maia, who was sitting on the other side of her. “Help me?”
We helped her to her feet, and the three of us slowly made our way through to the living room.
ALEX MAY NOT HAVE laid a hand on me this time, but driving away from Bridget’s house an hour later, it felt like he had. My entire body ached and my head was pounding. Trying to be strong for Bridget, and Maia, had left me feeling like I’d been dumped by a succession of waves – waves called anger, guilt, grief and frustration.
I still wasn’t sure we should’ve left, despite Bridget’s assurances that she was alright. Alex was more than likely home by now, albeit sleeping on his front porch, since his house key was no doubt with his car key, and therefore still at Bridget’s. And he’d wake up tomorrow, completely oblivious of the pain he’d caused tonight.
We had to do something about him. What had started out as the occasional slur when he’d had a few too many had become a personal crusade – against me, against the world, and it was looking like Bridget was in the firing line now, too. Who was next, Henry? Maia? Where the hell would it end?
I could handle it – and I had been. Not brilliantly, I’d be the first to admit, but I had been handling it. Bridget was another story. She didn’t deserve any of this.