“You.” He shakes his head like he can wake himself up, like it’s not real. “You. Jesus … it was you? This can’t be happening.” He continues to shake his head. “He told her the other woman—you—meant nothing. Do you like that, Ave? Have you just never cared whether or not you truly mean something to a man? As long as they buy you things, then you carelessly turn a blind eye to minor details like wives? Do you know what that makes you?”

“Is everything okay?” Sydney peeks into the room, her dark, wet hair tied back into a ponytail.

She eyes me with concern. Then she shoots Jake a questioning look, but he keeps his back to her.

I wipe away my tears, no longer able to tolerate the disdain on Jake’s face. “It’s fine. Are you ready?”

Sydney nods slowly, concern still marring her face.

“Give me five minutes to get dressed.” I bend down and riffle through my bag for clothes.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Sydney says.

“Okay.” I keep my head down, my complete devastation hidden from my grieving sister and the man who clearly hates me. The man who wanted me dead when I was an unknown whore to him.

This defensive little voice in my head wants to jump out and spew off all the reasons Jake has no right to be upset with me. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know. Steve lied and he was good at it. I didn’t ruin Megan’s marriage. Steve did. But I can’t say any of these words because Swarley died, and Megan doesn’t need her past dug up and hashed out all over again.

“This isn’t the time or place to discuss this.” I stand, braving a glance up at Jake.

His shoulders are slumped, his jaw still cemented into a disapproving scowl. He looks angry and disappointed and … hurt. He shakes his head. “There’s nothing to discuss. I think you filled in the missing pieces.”

I step into my shorts and slip off Jake’s shirt. He turns away from me.

This … this hurts. Last night I was the woman he loved. This morning I’m the whore not worthy of his eyes on my bared flesh. I turn my back to him too as I put on my bra.

Tears burn.

Pride suffocates.

Hearts break.

Words fail.

And I … well, I focus on Sydney and her family who will be devastated when we bring Swarley home in a body bag. As for Jake, I regret nothing. He taught me a lot about myself.

Attagirl, Ave.

Stand the fuck up for yourself.

Show me whatcha got.