Hamish ambles down the stairs, then stands at the bottom as if waiting for a bus, not like a man who just blew up my marriage.
I’ve known him since we were kids. His family were a huge support to my mother when my father died. Our mothers were extremely close friends.
Our summers were spent thick as thieves. We shared ice cream cones and fished for tadpoles under the warm Scottish sunshine. He was the brother I never had. My best friend through school until I left for the army.
We grew apart over the years, but I thought I could rely on him.
Now I know the truth.
I trusted him with my family, my home, my wife.
He thanked me by fucking her in our bed.
His family owns the bar, The Cooray Inn, where I met Ainsley. He runs the place now. And fucking his staff is his obviouspastime, I think bitterly. No wonder she insisted on keeping on a few shifts a week. I never understood why she loved that job—until now.
He runs his hand through his mop of curly red hair and shifts nervously from foot to foot. A tall man, he can look me in the eye but is built like a beanpole. His pale skin is smattered with spots. He still looks like the awkward kid I knew from childhood.
At least he has the decency to look ashamed of his behavior, but we both know he’s not. Underneath the dropped gaze is a smirk, the mocking smile of a man who believes he’s won. The bastard might as well be laughing at me. Screwing my wife and laughing hard.
The shock that kept me paralyzed for the past ten minutes cracks open, rage flooding through. My fingers clench at my sides, curled into fists. Every muscle tenses, the way it does when I’m waiting for the enemy to take the first shot.
I talk myself down. If I lose my cool, I’ll end up in the cells overnight.
I can’t do that to Hannah.
I won’t be the father who ruins his return home by getting in a fistfight. My daughter deserves so much more than that. Me being away for months at a time is hard enough to deal with, without my temper breaking. And now, she will be facing the destruction of her family, however that may look.
Hamish slides into my view, creeping toward the front door. Clumsily, his shoulder connects with a framed photo of Ainsley, Hannah, and myself on the wall. It crashes to the floor, glass scattering over the wood. My family lie, cracked on the ground, staring up.
“Done with my wife? Or are you not satisfied yet?” My words come out hot, loaded. He’s seen what happens when I’m pushed. He’s witnessed what I’m capable of. My knuckles have slammed one too many jaws over the years.
His mouth bobs like a fish blowing bubbles, but no excuse comes. He just gapes. Mute. His silence does nothing to ease the fury in my gut. Right now, I want to kill him. If this was a warzone, he would have a bullet between his eyes.
“Fucking say something, bro. How could you?”
His gaunt frame startles, vibration running through each limb. His shoulders lift to his ears as if that will make him invisible, like a child covering their eyes in hide and seek. I rise from my chair; he takes a step back.
Then Ainsley appears. “Lance, I know this is a shock…”
She descends the stairs, dressed demurely in a simple white blouse and jeans, suitcase in hand. Her movement elegant, calm, rehearsed, like she’s been practicing this exit for years. She glides to the bottom stair.
“Hamish and I are in love,” she says. “I want a divorce.”
“No,” I bark back, grasping for a semblance of power. Anything I can control in this shitshow.
She shakes her head, flashing me a sympathetic smile. One I want to scrub off her face.
My muscles fire again, ready to fight. My nails dig into my palms, wanting to feel anything but hatred.
“Hannah will be home from school soon. I’ll give you tonight, but please be gone by tomorrow.” Her tone is detached—she’s miles away. “And take Dog with you.”
Take Dog, as if he’s another thing she’s discarding.
“He’s your friend, not mine. Not my problem.”
She takes Hamish’s hand and leads him out my front door.
Her front door, I correct myself.