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He opens the door, and I slip inside.
The club is quiet today, some of the private rooms locked with people, but the main area is closed so there aren’t too many bodies getting around. I open each of the doors, looking for Spike. I know there are a few rooms upstairs where people can sleep, but something is telling me he’s down here somewhere.
I find him in one of the viewing rooms.
Of course he’s in a viewing room.
The door isn’t locked, so he’s obviously not worried about anyone coming in. Instead, he’s sitting on a chair, boot up near the large screen, watching a couple fucking. I’ve been in here a few times with him, and I would say I like it as much as he does, but the idea of him sitting in here for days, watching it alone, sparks a hurt deep inside me.
“Seriously?”
Spinning around, his eyes meet mine and flash with a mixture of rage and shock.
“Are you fucking serious?” I yell, the tension and anxiety from the last few days exploding out. “I’m at home, calling you over and over, terrified, and you’re here watching people fuck?”
“I needed time.”
His voice is low, crackly, somewhat broken.
I laugh, bitterly. “Oh, you needed time? You needed it. Go fuck yourself, Spike. You put yourself in this situation. You did this. I have been through something too, or have you forgotten about that? What the hell is wrong with you?”
I’m shaking, the rage uncontrollable.
“What’s wrong with me is that nobody will leave me the fuck alone!” he roars.
I flinch. His words hurt. They hurt so bad.
I charge toward him, shoving my hands into his chest over and over again. He growls, gripping my wrists and pushing me back, but not releasing me.
“You want to be alone?” I shout. “Is that what you want? Fine. Be alone. Be fucking alone. Don’t come home for all I care, you selfish ...”
“Enough,” he barks, cutting me off. “Do not fucking come in here and lose your shit on me, Ciara. I came here to get away. If I wanted to talk, I would have fuckin’ answered the phone. I want to be alone!”
“You came here—” I jerk my wrists out of his grips “—to fuck.”
His eyes flash. “Watchin’ and doin’ are two different things. I have never, nor would I ever, cheat on you.”
“Oh, so it’s okay with you to watch someone else as long as you’re not touching them? I suppose it would be no problem if I go do the same.”
“Be very careful,” he warns, his voice icy. “I’m not in the mood.”
“What’s good for the goose ...” I throw at him, shaking my head.
His eyes widen and then narrow as he takes a deep breath, his large shoulders rising. He’s hanging onto control, but it’s not going to last long. Well, too fucking bad. He hurt me by coming here, and he knows it. “I can’t do this with you now. You need to leave.”
My heart breaks, even though I don’t show it.
I have always been the person he turns to, always been the one he trusts, but he’s not letting me in. This is the first time he has pushed me away since Cheyenne was around. Even then, I don’t feel like he pushed me this hard. It’s as if he’s switched off, as if he is giving up, and that scares me.
“If you don’t want to be here with me,” I say, my voice shaky, “then I deserve to know. After everything, you could at least be honest with me instead of hiding here watching people fuck.”
“I don’t fucking know what I want because I can’t fucking think,” he bellows, turning and smashing a lamp as he sends it flying across the room.
My knees wobble.
He’s panting, and I’ve never seen this kind of broken in his eyes. Something is wrong, and I don’t even think he knows what it is. Spike is lost, and he’s saying things he doesn’t mean. Right?
He doesn’t mean them.
