He thinks I want to get back together with my shithead husband.
I’d laugh, if I could summon even one ounce of amusement over this ridiculous misunderstanding.
“Conor, no.No.” I shake my head. “You’re completely off base. What you saw… the way I’ve reacted when talking about Paul… it’s…”
“What?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then explain it to me. Because from where I’m standing, your reactions look a lot like you’re still in love with him.”
“Are you serious?! Did you forget about the fact that I’ve been attempting to divorce the man for six months?”
“A legal separation isn’t the same as an emotional one.”
“I cannot believe this! You have lost your damn mind, Gallagher.” I laugh ludicrously, taking a few steps in his direction. “And I suppose the fact that I’ve filed a restraining order against him, and kicked him out of my house, and done everything physically possible to move on from him… that doesn’t count for anything in your book?”
His jaw clenches and unclenches rhythmically. I can see he’s conflicted — torn between trusting my words and listening to his own instincts.
“Conor.” His name is a plea. “Do you honestly think, after everything that happened between us last night, that I still…” I trail off, too hurt to even finish the sentence.
“I don’t know what to believe, Shelby. You’re not exactly an open book when it comes to your emotions. You don’t confide in anyone — least of all me. You don’t let anyone in behind that wall you’ve built around yourself. And you know what? That wall might keep you protected, but it leaves everyone on the outside flying blind, having to guess everything you’re thinking and feeling.” He exhales sharply. “I like to think I can read you pretty well by now. But when it comes to this, I can’t rely only on instinct. I can’t play some guessing game with you until you’re finally ready to trust me. It’s too important. And it’s bigger than just you and me and your idiot ex.”
“Oh, that’s rich!You, Mr. Closed-Off, lecturingmeabout keeping people at arm’s length.”
“And yet, I’m not the one keeping secrets.”
“No, you’re the one throwing false accusations!”
“Look… if I’m off base, if I read things wrong… I’ll own it. Hell, I’ll throw a fucking parade to celebrate it.” He shakes his head and a lock of dark hair falls into his eyes. “But this situation isn’t exactly clear-cut. To put it bluntly, it’s a fucking mess. You and him are—”
“There is nome and him!” I snap. “Except, apparently, in your delusional alpha male brain!”
“You think I like thinking about this? You think I don’t hate the idea of you being with him? You think the thought of you going back to him doesn’t make me sick to my fucking stomach?” His words are ragged with emotion. “But Shelby, you were married to the man for ten years. That doesn’t justendbecause you take off your wedding ring and file some paperwork.”
I flinch back, deeply offended. “You don’t know a damn thing about what my marriage was like! About what he’s done to me! And, based on this conversation, I’m starting to think you don’t know a damn thing about me either!”
“Maybe I don’t.” He takes a step toward me, until only a foot remains between us. His eyes narrow dangerously. “Or maybe you’re just too embarrassed to admit you could ever want him back in your life after everything he’s done. Maybe you don’t want to be one of those weak, stand-by-your-man wives who never grows a backbone, even after being treated like a piece of property rather th—”
My hand flies out and slaps him clear across the face. It’s not a conscious action. It’s more of a reflex to hearing all those awful things — the same ones I’ve whispered to myself over and over in the mirror for years — coming out of his mouth instead of my own.
I just… I snapped.
And slapped.
I’m not sure who’s more stunned by the strike — me or him. My mouth falls open as I watch a bright red handprint blooming across his skin.
“Conor…” I breathe, instantly remorseful. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”
“I think we should hit pause on this discussion,” he growls tightly, turning away from me and striding from the room.
“Wait!” I call. “Conor, hold on!”
He keeps walking.
“Conor!” I yell, racing after him through the kitchen. I beat him to the door and plant myself against it, blocking his path.
“Hunt.Move.”