“What do you want, Jenson?” I continued to pummel the bag, relishing in the sweat that stung my eyes, each pound on the stuffed leather causing a pain to shoot through my hands and triggering a fresh outpour of blood. I needed the blood; I needed to know I could still bleed. I wasn’t sure I was living anymore. “Where is Faye, Cade?” I winced when my teeth sank into my bottom lip and I closed my eyes for a second, catching the bag as it swung back at me. I straightened my shoulders and ran my tongue over my retreating gums. “Home.” He paused, taking a step further towards me. “No she’s not. I’ve just come from upstairs.” I laughed, shaking my head at his stupidity. “Not my home. Hers.” “What?” His shock matched mine when we’d flown back home and Faye had told me she needed to go back to her place. Needed space and time, she said. Still loved me, she said. Fuck, if she loved me, why did it feel so damn agonizing? His silence was loud, his unsaid words expressive.
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