𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❸

𝟏. ✭ 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑 ✭

Concern rolls through me like the mother-fucking-plague after hanging up the phone with my son. After getting a firsthand account of what exactly Torey's been up to recently, I couldn't help but feel like there was this sticky, gross film on my skin. One I can't seem to wash off.

Luke had called Evelyn the moment we got back because once Mal found out where Torey was, instead of saving her and his son, well, she went off like a fucking nuclear explosion. Luke and I had tried to calm her down, since she was in a fragile state, but when my wife's adrenaline kicks in you better be ready to either fuck or get out of the fucking way. Because the anger she had, the absolute and utter rage in that moment, from such a profound betrayal, the pure, undulated hostility that had poured out of her could've incinerated entire cities; eviscerated them.

She was beautiful. She was terrifying. Beautifully terrifying. And that temper, that fury, all of that pain and hurt, and the way she displayed it in that moment, reminded me so much of Torey that a piece of my heart broke for both of them.

Because if anyone knew pain and betrayal, could speak it's language fluidly, it would be Mal. And now it's our son.

And there's such a large part of me that wants to be there for both of them, to fix it, but I can't. I'm a bystander watching my son experience a pain nearly identical to his mother's past pain, to then, in extension, hurt her in return because of it.

There's not much in life I can give a fuck about to hate. But I sincerely, genuinely hate this. And I hate it for them.

Not even Luke could comfort her. Someone she's known nearly her entire life, who knows her better than anyone, and could get through to her in the worst of times. No, Malyssa has been unconsolable since she heard what Torey was getting up to, especially sexually.

After hearing accounts, ones that she demanded from Evelyn over speakerphone, she had jerked away from the phone as if it were a knife that was physically thrown at her. Luke and I had shared a look of knowing. Because what he was doing to women, the way he treated them and discarded them, hurt them, was exactly how she'd described her relationship with Scott Marling.

That man degraded her. Used and abused her. And when she tried to leave, stabbed her nearly to death.

Talk about generational trauma.

Brooks leaving was the real icing on the cake.

Malyssa was already reeling from the loss of her son, also from the wound that came with knowing his Scott-like degradation kink, but when Brooks announced he was leaving, Mal broke down like I've never seen her do before. She begged him to stay. Begged him. And my wife begs no one for anything. But he was resolute, and rightfully so, I'd been in a similar mindset once in my life.

When Mal found out she was pregnant with Luke's baby, well, I hadn't known my place either. I had been in love with both of them and believed it was best for them if I leave though. I can't even imagine having to reside with my ex, her current husband, and the love-child of a man I was in love with who left me.

Fuck that.

I wouldn't be sticking around either.

When I had begun to try and explain that to her I immediately shut right the fuck up at the look Luke threw my way. I know he loves me, would do anything for me, but he looked like he wanted to murder me in that moment. So I closed my mouth and told her that I loved her instead. That everything would eventually be okay.

But since then she's just been in bed. She won't get out. She'll hardly eat. Her usual sexualness and playfulness are long forgotten. It's another thing that I sincerely hate for her; for us.