Page 8 of Broken Saint

All the cans and coffee cups I was expecting to find littering the top of his desk are on the floor, while the flimsy piece of furniture rocks with the force of his thrusts.

He’s still wearing his shirt and his pants are bunched around his ankles. That’s the amount of effort he put into this situation.

His boss, however, is totally naked beneath him.

I let my eyes roll down her body, noticing all the differences I see compared to when I look in a mirror. She’s curvy, sure, but her skin is smooth, flawless. Her hair is styled and her makeup, contoured and perfect.

She’s everything I’m not.

Everything.

“Fuck, baby,” Chad groans, his voice deep and dripping with desire. My stomach knots up as I start to back away, and I can’t help wondering if I’ve ever heard it before.

I run out of that building as quietly as I entered, terrified that they’ll hear me and know what I just witnessed. Understand just how fucking stupid I am.

I thought that dinner was for us.

I thought he was trying to apologize.

How. Fucking. Stupid. Am. I?

Long before I drop back into my car, tears are dripping from my jaw as I silently sob.

But it’s not because of the loss of my relationship. That doesn’t hurt very much. Nowhere near as much as it should, seeing as it was only six months ago he asked me to be his forever.

What hurts is seeing my naivety right there in front of my face.

All my fears, all my insecurities. All my stupid mistakes.

I’m at the condo we share in minutes, my vision blurry from the tears still spilling over, but with no memory of the drive.

With Benny’s words filling my mind, I blow through the house like a storm, packing a bag. I grab the few sentimental items I brought with me when I moved in here, but most importantly, I pull open his wardrobe and reach for the box he hides at the back.

I’ve never looked inside, but I can’t deny that I’ve been intrigued about the contents, aside from the money I’ve seen him stash when he thinks I’m not watching.

Pulling it out with trembling hands, I place it on the dresser and flip the top.

“Oh my god,” I gasp when I find panties staring back at me.

Is he actually for real?

Reluctantly, I brush them aside, noting the lack of a pair of mine among his collection.

That single realization weirdly hits harder than watching him pound his boss.

Memories of our time together flicker through my mind, and I begin questioning my life choices more with every image that appears.

When I came back home, I was a mess and in one of the darkest places I’d been in my life.

And then there he was. Blond hair, blue eyes, with a smile that could light up a room.

My memories of him from high school weren’t great. But the second we started talking, he apologized for being a douche canoe back then and set about proving to me that he’d grown into a decent guy.

He did. Time and time again he showed me how sweet and thoughtful he was. I knew back then I wasn’t a jolly person to hang around with. My injuries still impacted my day-to-day life, and the grief from losing my father was still raw. But Chad showed up for me every single day in one way or another. And I appreciated the hell out of that, and I fell hard and fast.

Of course, I had my friends. Violet and Letty were only a phone call away once I moved back to Texas. But it wasn’t the same as having someone turn up with a bar of your favorite chocolate, or take you out for a drive just so you can watch the sunset over the lake like you used to with your dad.

But that was then, and this is now.