Fury E-Book

Mary E. Thompson

• Herausgeber: BluEyed Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

She thought their marriage would last forever. That she could count on him to be her partner. She was wrong. 

Six months ago, Stacey kicked her lying husband out of their bed. They made promises to each other. Promises that didn’t include lonely nights and lonelier days missing the man who slept on the couch. Something had to give. She knew that as sure as she knew her former client’s death was murder. 

Wray’s nights under the same roof as his wife and sons were numbered. Every time he left, he wondered if she’d change the locks while he was at the fire station. He couldn’t change the past, but he hoped they still had a shot at a future. Until she tells him it’s over. 

Making a rash decision when she’s emotional is a bad idea, but Stacey never expects it will put her family at risk. Keeping Wray home is the best way to protect their sons, even though he threatens her heart. As for the man who threatens her life, he’ll get exactly what he deserves.

Leseprobe

FURY

F-BOMB: CURVY VIGILANTES, BOOK ONE

MARY E THOMPSON

Fury

F-BOMB: Curvy Vigilantes, book one

Copyright © 2022 Mary E Thompson

Cover Copyright © 2022 Mary E Thompson

Cover Photo from depositphotos, Copyright © fxquadro

Break (Mask) from depositphotos, Copyright © K3star

Published by BluEyed Press, All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, businesses, locations, and events are either products of the author’s creative imagination or are used in a fictitious sense. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-953879-26-4

Print ISBN: 978-1-953879-27-1

Audiobook ISBN: 978-1-953879-28-8

Created with Vellum

F-BOMB: CURVY VIGILANTES

Say hello to the Curvy Vigilantes, a group of plus-size women who protect their city. They have no training, but they don’t need it. All they need is the desire to right wrongs and to protect the ones they love… and maybe some help from the men strong (and smart) enough to fall for these kick-ass curvy women.

F-BOMB: CURVY VIGILANTES

Forsaken (subscriber exclusive)

Fury

Framed

Feign

Fierce

Fatal

Fear

Flee

Fracture

Faith

SUBSCRIBE NOW AT MARYETHOMPSON.COM

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

FRAMED

About the Author

To every woman who has ever doubted her own strength… you can do anything and you are powerful beyond your imagination.

Never give up.

1

Stacey Allen was not at a funeral so she could avoid her husband.

She nudged her sunglasses up her nose and ground her teeth together. Her focus never strayed from the wooden box as it disappeared around the edge of the dirt. Not many people remained. It wasn’t often that people stayed to see a casket lowered into the ground. Even less common when the woman inside the casket was a ghost for the last five months.

Stacey wasn’t there because they were friends. She was there out of obligation. Holly was a client of Stacey’s. They talked every day for a month, then weekly for another three months. Stacey recommended Holly go back to her life. She thought the woman was healthy. She thought she was safe.

Stacey was dead wrong. And now Holly was dead.

Stacey blamed herself for Holly’s death. She wasn’t the one who dragged Holly from her car and stabbed her, but Stacey was the one who told Holly she would be okay.

“We’re heading out,” Captain Patrick said quietly.

Stacey nodded. “Thank you. I won’t be long.”

Captain Patrick nodded and offered her a sympathetic smile. Stacey’s boss and friend, Frannie, hugged Stacey, then looped her arm through the captain’s. They walked together, past the rows of stones on the hill.

Stacey tried to hold back her tears, but she was losing the battle. She was angry. Not just at herself for thinking Holly would be safe when she left the shelter and tried to live her life again, and not just at Holly’s husband who was the one and only suspect as far as Stacey was concerned, even though he hadn’t been charged. No, Stacey was mad at her own husband.

Wray Allen. The man Stacey fell in love with a lifetime ago. The man she planned to spend her life with. He was a good man, at least, she thought he was. But for the last six months, Stacey couldn’t see that version of her husband. The only one she saw was the one who gambled away almost everything they had and nearly bankrupted them. The man who put his problems, his addiction, above the safety of his wife and sons.

One woman was dead because of the sins of her husband. Stacey told her patients they deserved better, but she never took the advice herself. She’d spent years counseling abuse victims that it wasn’t their fault and that they didn’t need the men who hurt them the way the men convinced them they did. Stacey empowered women to stand on their own and make a new life for themselves.

Instead of listening to her own words, Stacey was letting her past dictate her present. Her parents’ divorce ruined her childhood. She hated them for not trying to save their marriage. Stacey wouldn’t do the same thing to her sons. She needed to try. But trying wasn’t getting them anywhere. Something had to change, and she knew what it was.

Stacey had been sitting on the sidelines of her own life, afraid to make the leap and tell her husband it was over. Maybe it was time.

“We should get home,” a man’s voice said from not far away.

Stacey looked up, and her stomach turned. She’d never known hate so strong as she felt in that moment. It tore her heart out and flipped her insides and made her want to do something she knew she couldn’t do. It made her want revenge.

Oscar Hyatt stared at Stacey, a triumphant look of pleasure curling his lips up. His arm was draped over the shoulders of his daughter, Vera, as Vera stared at the hole in the ground where her mother’s body would stay.

Stacey wanted to rip Vera from her father’s arms. She was a teenager, barely old enough to know her own mind, and she was under the care of a monster. A man who not only abused Holly, but who Stacey was completely convinced also killed her.

Except he had an alibi and was not a suspect.

“I just want to stay a little longer,” Vera said. She sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Stacey knew Vera. They’d spoken regularly when Vera lived in Shelter from the Storm with her mother. Stacey counseled both of them to help them through the situation they were in. Vera hadn’t been a victim of her father’s, but she knew what he did to her mother. But Oscar doted on Vera. Manipulated her to love him.

Vera leaned against her father’s side, and Oscar hugged her tighter, his hand rubbing her shoulder for comfort. The entire time, he smirked at Stacey. He knew exactly who she was, and she knew he was guilty, but they both knew there was nothing Stacey could do about it.

“Vera,” Stacey said softly, ignoring the cancer around the girl.

“Stacey!” Vera rushed over to her, throwing her arms around Stacey’s neck and burrowing in. She sobbed against Stacey’s shoulder. “Why did this happen?”

Stacey glared at Oscar. “I wish I could tell you that, honey. Your mom was a beautiful person, inside and out, and some ugly, evil person stole her from all of us.”

Oscar flinched ever so slightly when Stacey called him ugly and evil. He quickly schooled his expression and sneered. It wasn’t a confession, but it was enough for Stacey to know for sure he was guilty. Too bad she couldn’t go to the cops with a guilty look.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”

“I know, sweetheart. Where are you staying?”

“With my dad. He didn’t do this, Stacey. It wasn’t him. And he would never hurt me.”

Stacey brushed Vera’s blonde hair back from her face and smiled at the trustworthy child. Vera was fourteen. Barely old enough to know her own mind, let alone understand how disgusting some of the world was. Holly was a miracle-worker to have kept her daughter so hidden from the horrors of their home, not to mention the rest of the evils of the world. Especially when that evil lived under the same roof.

“You know you can always come see me. And you can always call me. I’m always going to be here for you.”

Vera nodded. “I know. Thanks, Stacey.”

“Vera, we need to go,” Oscar demanded.

Vera looked over at him and saw the scowl on his face. She ducked her head, then said a quick goodbye to Stacey before rushing back to her father’s side.

Oscar smirked at Stacey, then guided Vera to the waiting car.

Stacey stared after them, watching the way he touched his daughter. He wasn’t inappropriate, which both relieved and bothered Stacey. If he grabbed Vera’s arm or did anything that made it look like he hurt the girl, Stacey would have the power to remove Vera from his care. But Oscar did nothing.

Stacey waited until they got in the car and drove away. She turned back to the grave and stared at the simple box that held Holly. Stacey closed her eyes and promised Holly that she would find proof that Oscar killed her and get Vera away from him.

She just hoped she could keep the promise.

* * *

Wray Allen tackled his older son, Joey, and tickled him until he squealed. Evan, his baby, jumped on Wray and dug his chubby fingers into Wray’s side, laughing the whole time like he was the one being tickled.

Wray pretended Evan’s uncoordinated fingers were the funniest things in the world and laughed loudly. Joey jumped in and joined his little brother, both of them jabbing their fingers into the soft tissue on Wray’s neck and sides. It wouldn’t be long before those little fingers would hurt more than tickle, but Wray wasn’t going to think about that. He was going to enjoy the time he had with his sons and hope he could fix things with his wife so he didn’t miss out on more than he already had.

A car door slammed outside, and both boys jumped up.

“Mommy’s home!” Joey shouted as he ran for the door.

“Wait,” Wray commanded his six-year-old in the dad voice he didn’t break out often. Joey had started opening the door when he felt like it and answering the door without a parent. It didn’t matter how many times they told him to wait, he never did. It was bad enough that Wray installed a video doorbell so they would always know if Joey left the house.

Joey stopped and gave Wray an annoyed look that nearly made him laugh. He held it together and cocked an eyebrow at his oldest.

“You know you’re not supposed to open the door without a parent.”

“But it’s Mommy. She’s a parent.”

Wray tried to figure out how to talk around that logic and was grateful when Stacey let herself into the house before he had to come up with something.

Evan threw himself at Stacey, wrapping his arms around her legs so she couldn’t get inside far enough to close the door. “Hi, Evs. Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“We tickled,” Evan said in his three-year-old blabber. He’d grown a lot in the last six months. He was still a baby, but going from two to three and starting preschool were big changes. So big that Wray dreaded how much more he’d miss. His guess was, the way his wife avoided his gaze, his time on the couch was coming to an end.

Wray fell in love with Stacey the night they met. He was playing cards at a game a friend organized in college. Stacey walked in and he felt an odd buzz of energy, like a piece of his he hadn’t known was missing was finally back. Her pull was magnetic, and Wray couldn’t have resisted it if he tried. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to know her, and as the night wore on and she indulged his claim that she was his good luck charm, Wray knew he’d never be able to walk away from her.

After the game, Wray talked her into breakfast at a local diner, paid for with his winnings, then convinced her to let him take her to dinner that night. From then on, they were together.

In the decade since, Wray had learned everything about his wife. Normally it was a blessing to know someone so well, but when the words she held back were bad, it was a curse. A curse to know his time at home was short-lived.

“Did you guys eat a snack?” Stacey asked the boys when she finally got Evan off her leg and closed the door.

“Yep. Daddy made us cheese and crackers,” Joey said.

“Okay, good. Give me a few minutes to change and then we can talk about dinner,” Stacey said. She made a move toward the stairs. Her black dress, black boots, and black purse would have looked a little dramatic at the party they were going to, but the mention of dinner told Wray she forgot.

“Emily will be here at five. Do you want to wait to figure out dinner until she gets here?” Wray asked. It was a gentle reminder they wouldn’t be home to eat. A way for him to tell her they had plans without making her feel bad for forgetting. At least, he hoped.

Stacey hung her head. Her shoulders slumped. She looked like she might collapse right there on the stairs. “Taylor’s party. I forgot.”

Wray didn’t reply. There was nothing he could say that would not piss her off, so staying silent felt like the right move.

“Let me change into something less formal. Yeah, we’ll talk to Emily about dinner.”

Wray nodded even though Stacey wasn’t looking at him. Evan made a move to follow Stacey up the stairs, but Wray scooped him up and rolled him up onto his shoulders, tickling his exposed belly and making Evan squeal with laughter.

Stacey trudged up the stairs without looking back.

Wray set Evan on the floor and smiled at the wide grin on his son’s face. Both boys were blissfully unaware of the tension between Stacey and Wray. One of the good things about them being so young when their parents’ marriage was faltering. Wray hated it, but he was the one to blame. If it hadn’t been for him getting sucked into an illegal gambling ring and nearly losing everything, he wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch.

While Stacey was changing, Wray and the boys cleaned up the living room. Joey insisted on helping pull out the takeout menus to show Emily when she arrived. He told Wray Emily really liked pizza and made sure that menu was on the top.

Wray smiled to himself. His son had his first crush on his babysitter. Stacey would think it was adorable.

The doorbell rang before Stacey came downstairs. Wray let Emily in and thanked her for coming. Emily lived a few houses down from them and was a regular babysitter for the boys. She was fun and kind, but also responsible and considerate. She was always their first choice for babysitters.

Stacey hurried downstairs while Wray was talking to Emily. Stacey’s eyes were red and puffy. She was still avoiding Wray’s gaze. Tension coiled tighter and tighter inside him. He was running out of time.

Wray hurried upstairs and changed, then said goodbye to the boys and Emily and followed Stacey outside to his truck.

Their drive to Taylor’s was quiet. Wray tried to think of what to say to her, but nothing ever felt right.

They turned onto Taylor’s street, and Stacey finally said, “We need to talk.”

“Now? When we’re about to pull into the driveway?”

She looked through the windshield like she hadn’t realized where they were and shook her head. “No. Not now. Soon.”

“Okay,” Wray said. His time in front of the firing squad would be here soon. Dammit.

* * *

Stacey was happy to be home. Not that she didn’t love Taylor, but Taylor was convinced she could save Stacey and Wray’s marriage. Stacey appreciated her friend’s positivity, but Stacey wasn’t so sure. The biggest sticking point for her was her sons, which was why she wanted to talk to Wray about making a change to their situation. She didn’t know what, but him sleeping on the couch wasn’t working. They didn’t talk. They didn’t touch. They didn’t do anything. They were strangers under the same roof, pretending to be married and in love for the rest of the world.

Stacey knew living a lie was not the way to go through life.

She was so sure after Holly’s funeral that ending things was the only option left, but every time she saw her husband, the idea wasn’t so solid. She couldn’t imagine her life without him, even if a life with him wasn’t much of a life.

Wray parked the truck in the driveway and got out without a word. He hadn’t tried talking to her lately. At first, he apologized at least once a day, but it had been months since he said he was sorry and weeks since he initiated a conversation about anything.

Wray unlocked the front door and stepped back to let Stacey go through first. Even if he wasn’t speaking to her, he was still the man she loved. That man was buried deep inside, but little things like that gave Stacey a glimmer of hope that if she could get past the hurt, maybe they could find their way back to each other.

Stacey unzipped her boots and set them on the rack, then hung her purse on the hook by the door. The house was quiet, telling her the boys were asleep. The TV flickered in the living room where Emily usually settled after the boys fell asleep.

Stacey walked into the living room and stopped. Instead of stretched out on the couch like normal, Emily was curled up in the lounge chair, her neck at an awkward angle. She didn’t look comfortable at all.

“Why is she in the chair?” Wray asked.

Stacey shook her head and walked over to Emily. She was close to Vera’s age, but the differences between the two girls’ situations were shocking. Stacey wished Vera could have the stable life Emily had.

Stacey put her hand on Emily’s shoulder and gently shook her, calling her name. “Emily. We’re home. Wake up.”

Emily stretched and blinked her eyes open. “Hey.” She rolled her neck and winced, rubbing the kink.

“Why aren’t you on the couch? That would have been more comfortable.”

Emily shrugged. “Joey wouldn’t let me sit there.”

“What? Why not?”

Emily nibbled her lip. Her gaze flickered between Stacey and Wray, then settled on her hands. “He said it was his daddy’s bed, and I wasn’t allowed to sleep there or sit there.”

“He… What?” Stacey gasped. She thought they were hiding Wray sleeping on the couch from the boys. She thought they had no idea.

“Why don’t I walk you home?” Wray suggested to the silent room. It was their normal. Stacey checked on the boys and Wray walked Emily home and paid her. But nothing felt normal with that bombshell.

“Um, yeah. Thanks,” Emily said. She uncurled herself from the chair and gave Stacey a red-cheeked smile, then ducked her head and grabbed her shoes.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Wray said, although Stacey thought it was more for Emily’s benefit than hers.

“Okay.”

The door closed behind them, and Stacey sank to the chair. Joey knew. And if Joey knew, then fixing things before the kids found out anything wasn’t an option. He already knew.

After a minute, Stacey forced herself to get up. She didn’t want to be sitting there when Wray got home. She wanted to be upstairs, in her room, hidden from her husband.

She checked in on the boys and kissed both their cheeks. She hurried to her room and changed into pajamas. She flushed the toilet just as the camera at the front door alerted her to Wray’s return. Stacey rushed to bed and jumped under the covers, turning away from the door and pretending to be asleep.

Wray came in a few minutes later. He called her name quietly, but she didn’t move. He sighed heavily, then opened and closed a drawer before closing himself in the bathroom. Stacey didn’t move until after he was out of the bathroom and his soft footsteps padded down the stairs.

She’d decide what to do tomorrow.

2

Stacey woke up the next morning with no more answers than she had the night before. Shielding her kids from what was going on between her and Wray was always her top priority, but if they knew, was she really doing the best thing for them?

She asked herself the same question as she made her way downstairs. The living room looked the same as it always did. No sign of Wray having slept on the couch. The house was quiet, the boys still sleeping, which left Stacey wondering where Wray was.

His sneakers were gone, but his truck was still parked in the driveway. She walked through the downstairs, finding a full pot of coffee and no other sign Wray had been up.

The thump of feet hitting the floor above her head sent Stacey into mommy mode. She listened for the footsteps to lead to the bathroom, then the toilet flushed and the footsteps moved toward the stairs. A minute later, Joey shuffled into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Stacey said. She hugged him as he sat at the table.

“Morning.”

“Are you hungry?”

He shrugged. He wasn’t a morning person and usually took a little while to wake up enough to eat or talk.

“Want to watch TV for a few minutes?”

“Is Daddy gone?”

“I think he went out for a run. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“But you don’t know?”

“His truck is here. Daddy runs a lot.”

Joey grumbled something and padded back to the living room.

Stacey leaned against the table and tried to make sense of what was happening with her family. She stayed with Wray to keep her family together, but the tension between them was still hurting everyone.

Evan was up not long after Joey and joined his brother in front of the TV. Stacey fixed herself a cup of coffee and sat down just as Wray came in the front door, dripping with sweat.

“Morning, everyone,” Wray said, smiling at the boys and avoiding Stacey’s gaze.

“Hi, Daddy!” the boys said immediately. They jumped up but stopped when they got a few feet away from him. “Ew. You’re stinky.”

Wray lifted his arms above his head and stomped toward them. “I’m going to make you stinky.”

“Ew! No! Gross!” Evan screamed. He ran back to the couch and hid under a throw pillow.

Joey laughed and backed up, keeping his distance, too.

Wray stopped before he stepped onto the carpet. “I’m going to run up and shower. Then how about we go play outside, boys? Let Mommy have some time to herself this morning.”

“Yeah!” they shouted.

“All right. I’ll be back soon. Think about what you want to do. Braden might come over, too.”

The boys cheered. Wray took the steps two at a time. A minute later, the shower turned on.

“Do you boys want breakfast before you go outside?” Stacey asked them.

“Pancakes!” Joey shouted.

“Yeah, pancakes,” Evan agreed.

Stacey sighed. Guess she was making pancakes. And had time to herself to figure out what she wanted to do about her marriage.

* * *

Wray stared at the back of the house and wondered what Stacey was doing inside. He wanted to talk to her, but he knew she wasn’t open to talking. Not after what Emily told them the night before.

Wray failed all of them. He wanted to fix it, but no matter what he tried, he kept making things worse.

“You all right?” Braden asked.

Wray shrugged and pulled his attention from the house to the backyard. The boys were chasing each other, screaming and laughing. Braden was standing next to Wray and watching with him.

“I’ve been better.”

“What’s going on?”

“Just waiting for my wife to tell me she’s done trying.”

“You think she’s going to?”

Wray didn’t want to say the words out loud. He didn’t want to believe it could be true, but it was hard to imagine any alternative. It was even harder to admit it.

“I don’t know. Maybe just being paranoid.”

“Yeah, probably. She seemed fine when I got here.”

Wray nodded, but he knew that was only because Stacey didn’t like airing their dirty laundry. She believed family stuff should stay in the family. Her parents’ divorce became a spectacle for the entire town when she was a kid, and she always said no one else needed to know that much about what goes on inside a family.

Joey ran over and plowed straight into Braden, looking up at him with a smile. “Are you going to play?”

Braden snarled back and started chasing him around like a wild animal out for a hunt.

Joey and Evan screamed and ran from Braden. Evan ran for Wray and hid behind his legs when Braden turned his way. “Help, Daddy.”

“Daddy? There’s no Daddy here,” Wray said, turning to attack his youngest.

Evan squealed and took off. Wray chased him, the four of them laughing and running around the yard.

After that game, they climbed in and out of the playhouse, then the boys drew pictures on the patio with chalk. The afternoon went quickly, and before he knew it, Stacey was calling the four of them in for dinner.

“Are you staying, Braden? We have plenty,” she asked with a welcoming smile.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Stace.”

She nodded and pressed her lips into a smile that never met her eyes. Wray watched her, seeing the tension in her shoulders and the strain on her face. She didn’t meet his gaze.

Wray helped the boys get plates of food and carried them to the table. Braden went after them. Wray turned to get his own plate and found Stacey smiling at something Braden said. Wray walked over and picked up the last plate, taking his place in their short line behind Stacey.

She looked up at him like she didn’t expect to see him there. She pulled her gaze away, then set her plate back down and mumbled something about forgetting to do something and left the kitchen.

Braden looked at Wray, but all he could do was shrug. Any time he was close to her, she bolted. He’d almost gotten used to it.

The five of them ate dinner with the boys carrying the bulk of the conversation. Stacey barely said a word. She stared at her plate and ate her food, then shooed them all out of the kitchen so she could clean up.

Wray hated the distance between them. With the boys occupied for a minute and Braden there to keep them distracted, Wray went back to the kitchen to offer to help clean up.

Stacey was at the sink scrubbing the pan she cooked dinner in.

“Can I do anything?” Wray asked.

She jumped, dropping the pan in the sink and splashing soapy water all over herself and the counter. She turned to glare at him and shook her head. “No. You’ve done enough, Wray.”

“Stacey…”

“No, Wray. I am not going to talk about this now. Not when Braden is in the house and the boys are in the next room,” she hissed.

Wray nodded slowly. All he wanted to do was be there for his wife. To show her he was sorry. She clearly had different plans.

* * *

Stacey glared at her husband’s sleeping form. After the restless night of sleep she had it pissed her off to see him sleeping soundly. She wanted to kick the couch and wake him up. To dump a bucket of ice water on him. To—

“Just say it, Stace,” he said, his voice thick with regret and acceptance.

She should have known he was awake. The man was a constant surprise. Like when he gambled away their entire savings account, nearly lost their house, and almost got himself killed in the process.

Not all surprises were the good kind.

“We need to talk.” The words scratched out of her throat like glass shards, taking pieces of her with each word. She hated that she had to be the one to say it. That she had to be the bad guy. But he was forcing her into it.

He opened his eyes and avoided her gaze. He wasn’t the man she once knew. The man she thought she knew. He’d changed. He was broken, damaged, wounded. He was not the protector she fell in love with. Her husband was gone. The man in front of her was a shell.

He sat up on the couch and faced the living room. The muscles of his back bunched and teased Stacey as she watched him. Her mouth still went dry at the sight of him, his shorts low on his hips. The smooth line of his spine was one she’d spent many nights licking. His shoulders had showcased wounds from her teeth. She loved him with every last fiber of her being, and she still wanted him, but the most important thing in the world, the thing that kept them together for almost a third of their lives, was gone.

Trust.

He stood and faced her, his bare chest capturing her attention. The dips and peaks of his upper body tantalized her. Shadows accentuated the efforts he took with his strength. He knew it was a weakness for her. He knew she always felt like she wasn’t a good fit for him. She was all plush curves to his angled lines. They didn’t match, but he said they did. She believed him. And when he lifted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold on their wedding night and carried her up and over the threshold and up the stairs to their bedroom where he spent the entire night worshipping her body, she couldn’t ever argue again.

He grabbed the shirt he discarded after Stacey went upstairs the night before and pulled it over his head. He was doing it for her. Hiding the mouth-watering sight of his body so she could think straight and say what she needed to say.

Even at the end, he was watching out for her.

“I think you should move out.”

He met her eyes for the first time that day. The pain and regret in his was almost enough for her to second guess her decision. She still loved him. She wanted to fix what had happened. But she had no idea how they could get back to before.

Before he betrayed her.

Before he betrayed his best friend.

Before he betrayed himself.

Finally, Wray nodded. “Okay. When do you want me gone?”

Stacey wasn’t sure what to expect, but easy acceptance wasn’t it. “I don’t know. I didn’t really have a date in mind.”

“Can you give me a few weeks? I need time to find a place.”

“You’re going to get a new place?” she blurted.

Wray looked up at her, anger and frustration in his gaze. “I’m not sure what else I would do. I figured that’s the best plan.”

“Oh. Um, okay.” She wasn’t sure what to say. Or what she wanted. It hurt that he was willing to just accept her choice and move on. She wanted him to fight. She wanted him to push. She wanted him to want her the way she still wanted him.

But he didn’t. He just accepted what she said. So, she had to do the same.

“I’ll get the boys up. If you’re okay with handling their morning,” she said.