“I—”

He didn’t even let her get started.

“I’ve had a chance to think and as shit as that was, me doin’ that to you, and as shit as it was, me continuing to fuck you even after I made us over, you didn’t have it in you to deal. You don’t have it in you to deal. You lost me in a way you could’ve gotten me back. You knew it, fuckin’ everyone knew it, but you didn’t do it. So I fucked up. You fucked up. We’re even and we’re movin’ on.”

“But I want us—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want, Mia. I made this plain. I wanted us to sort our shit so we could move on without it fuckin’ up the memory of what we had. I told you we were over. I start somethin’ important with a woman who means a good fuckin’ deal to me and you come to my home, shovin’ me and gettin’ in my face, sayin’ jacked shit about that woman. So now that memory is gonna stay fucked. And not because I made it that way.” He lifted a hand and jabbed a finger toward her face. “You did.”

He stepped back and to the side but kept his eyes locked to her.

“Now get the fuck outta my house and do not ever come back. We are done, Mia.”

She didn’t move an inch, not even her gaze from his.

“I love you,” she whispered.

The last five years, he’d lived for her to say those words.

Now they meant nothing.

He shook his head.

She had no clue.

“Love is facing head on somethin’ that threatens it and not bending, sure as fuck not breaking, when that thing leans on you to let go. You don’t have that. In your way, I know you loved me. My way of lovin’ you was just as fucked up. We screwed that up so badly, there’s no goin’ back. At this point, the best we got is not jackin’ our shit again with someone else. I got every intention of not makin’ that same mistake twice with what I’m starting with a good woman who means somethin’ to me. I’m pissed as hell at you right now, but I hope you find you got it in you to do the same with your man. The one thing I’m certain about is that there’s nothin’ left between you and me.”

“I refuse to believe you mean that,” she replied earnestly.

He stared at her.

Yeah, she had no clue.

And at that point, he had no options, so he put his hands on his hips as he looked to the floor.

“Merry,” she called.

He lifted his head. “Get out.”

“But…Merry—”

He leaned her way and clipped, “Get…the fuck…out.”

She studied him, and when his body shifted, she said quickly, “Maybe we should find a time to talk when we’ve both calmed down.”

“Fuckin’ shit,” he muttered and moved, taking the only option she was giving him.