Page 122 of Irresistibly Wicked

She swallowed hard with that reality. The strange thing was, she felt like she was acting every day of her damn life, trying to fit in, pretending she wasn’t lonely or worried about one thing or another. The only time she wasn’t acting was when she was with Zander.

But he was.

She set the picture back on the mantel and tried to shake off the weight of the truth as she made her way down the hall to get ready for work.

Her stupid legs stopped working by the butt prints on the wall, the memory of making them slamming into her. The paint! she’d squealed. He’d flashed that devilish grin and said, Conversation starters, and then he’d fucked her senseless.

With a tremor in her chest, she headed into the bathroom.

She took a long, hot shower, trying to scrub the ache away, to no avail. She pinned up her hair, dressed for work, and packed her duffel with an extra uniform and a change of clothes for tomorrow. She put her bag by the front door, then headed into the kitchen for coffee. She glanced at a stack of papers on the island as she walked past and froze, her mind tripping over the words Divorce Agreement. Her knees wobbled, her feet rooted to the floor. She couldn’t breathe, could barely see through a rush of tears.

“Nonono.” Not now. Not yet.

Her hand trembled as she frantically shoved each page to the side. In her haste to get to the last one, papers sailed off the island, and she stood numb, the sight of Zander’s signature slicing through her as brutally as a knife.

She stumbled backward, trying to drag air into her lungs. She thought she could handle this. Thought she was prepared for the inevitable end of their agreement. But he wasn’t supposed to mean so much, and God, she wasn’t supposed to feel so much. She hadn’t even known she was capable of it. She grabbed the counter to combat her weak knees.

Breathe. Just breathe. You save lives. You saved your own life. You can do this.

Shoring up the walls she no longer wanted, she fumbled with the junk drawer and grabbed a pen. It felt wrong in her hand as she signed her name. Kitty wound around her feet in her tiny pink shirt, but Shauna didn’t trust herself to pick her up without breaking down, and she couldn’t afford to break down. She had to get to work, had to be on top of her game to do her job, so she blew out a breath, drew her shoulders back, and started making a game plan.

Heading back down the hall to the bedroom she hadn’t used since the honeymoon, she found her checkbook. She wrote a check to Zander to repay him for Brian’s rehab; then she headed into his bedroom, trying to ignore that ache it brought to see the bed they shared, the dresser that held their clothes, and focused on the jewelry box. She wanted to pack all her stuff, but she had to get to work. Zander would be at work when she came back Monday morning to get her things, so she put on blinders, grabbed her engagement and wedding rings, and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Quickly picking up the papers from the floor, she piled them on the counter and put the rings and the check on top of them. It only took ninety days for her to fall madly in love with Zander Wicked, but as she strode out of the kitchen, trying not to look at the cat she loved or the home they’d built, she had a feeling it would take a lifetime to get over him.

Chapter Forty-One

ZANDER SPED DOWN the highway, his helmet shutting out the world. No wind on his face, no distractions. Only miles of open road and the familiar roar of his motorcycle. Riding was supposed to clear his head, but he’d been riding since before dawn, and it only made the noise louder.

He’d woken to Shauna sprawled over him on the couch, her hair spread across his chest. He hadn’t wanted to move, much less leave her, but he’d needed to so he didn’t fuck up her life. Signing the divorce papers with Justice yesterday and having them notarized had felt like he was ripping out his own damn ribs, but leaving the papers for Shauna to find? Christ, that was worse.

So he rode.

For hours.

But fuck, he couldn’t do this alone, and that pissed him off.

The sun burned high in the sky, sadness clinging to him like baked-in sweat as he pulled off the highway, slowing to merge onto the main drag, and headed for the only place that made sense. To the only person who knew how to talk him off a ledge. The one he gave shit to for having his back when he didn’t want it. Now here he was, winding through backroads, hoping like hell his brother could help him one last time and that he still had enough fight left to listen.

He parked in the dusty drive and stalked up the porch steps. His heart hammering and his mind whirling, he pounded on the door. Too restless to wait, he threw the door open and stormed in, hollering, “Zeke! Where the hell are you?”

He heard Zeke curse up in the loft and headed over to the stairs.

“Zander, do not come up here.” Zeke’s warning split the air, deep and serious.

“Fuck,” Zander bit out, and paced the living room. He heard Zeke talking to someone, heard the clinking of metal. There were reasons he didn’t make a habit of showing up at his brothers’ houses without texting first. But nothing was normal right now.

Zeke stalked down the stairs buttoning his jeans, his jaw tight. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay. I’ve been riding around for hours trying to get my head on straight, and I can’t,” Zander gritted out, taking in the scratches on his brother’s shoulders and feeling like a dick for interrupting. “Sorry about…” He nodded toward the loft, still wearing a path in the hardwood floor.

Ignoring the comment, Zeke crossed his arms, watching Zander pace. “What happened?”

“I left the divorce papers for Shauna this morning and took off before she got up, and fuck, Zeke. I feel like my heart is being ripped to shreds.”

“Why the hell did you leave them for her instead of handing them to her?”

“Because I fucking couldn’t,” Zander seethed. “You have no idea how hard this is.”