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If Melissa were a man, I would’ve beaten the shit out of her already.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tag. What did that lying whore tell you now?” she asks, her voice steady, but the paleness of her face gives her away. She knows exactly what I’m talking about.

I unwrap her hand from around my arm and push her back a few steps, giving myself some room. I don’t trust myself not to strangle her when she’s that fucking close to me. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about: your little visit to Ashley’s to tell her she’d better abort the baby because you and I were getting married and planning our future. Where was I during this supposed planning, Melissa?”

“That’s exactly where we were heading before that stupid bitch came into your life,” she yells, stomping her foot like a spoiled child who’s just been told no. “Things were perfect between us until she royally fucked up everything by getting herself knocked up. I can’t believe you even put yourself in that position in the first place. Six years we’d been together, and you never once went bareback.” She has a lot of fucking nerve to yell at me after everything she has fucked up for me.

“Pissed off because it was you who was really waiting to trap me but I never gave you the chance? Careful, Melissa, your true colors are showing.”

That accusation must push some button of hers because her face turns a deep shade of red, and I think I even see some foam forming at the corner of her mouth.

“I’ve stood by you through every fucking thing! You’re supposed to be with me—not some poor, mousey reporter! She doesn’t belong in our world. I was doing you a favor,” she shrieks. The veins in her neck bulge, and her face goes even redder—if that’s possible

I’ve never seen this side of Melissa before, but I guess that means my character detector must be way off.

“A favor? Telling Ashley it was in the best interests of everyone to get rid of our baby—that’s your idea of a favor? Guess it’s a good thing I won’t ever be needing another favor from you again.”

She blanches suddenly, the various shades of reds that had taken over her face just a moment ago vanishing. She shakes her head in denial as she realizes I won’t be forgiving her.

“Tell me something, Melissa. What would’ve happened if Ashley had gone through with your suggestion? Were you ever going to tell me about your little meeting with her? Or did you just want her to assume that was what I wanted so you could get to your ultimate goal—my last name?”

“Whether she went through with it or not was up to her. It wouldn’t have been my fault if she was so easily swayed in making a decision like that. Is that what you want in your life Tanner—someone you can bend to your will? We both know how well I follow your demands,” she says, sidling up to me and rubbing herself against my side like a cat in heat. Her mood swing speed is impeccable. She’s gone from rage to fear to horny in three minutes flat. It must’ve been exhausting for her to keep up all these pretenses over the years.

“Well, how about you follow this one: get the fuck out of my house. Get the fuck out of my life. We. Are. Done! I want nothing to do with you from here on out. I don’t know when you changed or if you’ve always been this way, but you are ugly, Melissa. An ugly, bitter bitch. You are the epitome of everything I hate in a person.”

Melissa’s face becomes more contorted with anger with each insult I hurl at her and each step closer to the door I push her. I loom over her, giving her no choice but to retreat. I’ve never hit a woman in my life, but I’m coming really close to knocking her out.

“You’ll regret this, Tanner,” she threatens. “I’m the one who stood by you all these years, keeping you inline and out of trouble. Who the hell do you think you are, treating me like some slut you picked up at a bar? You can’t possibly think that gold-digging bitch is better than me. What happened to the real Tanner? I don’t like this pussy you’ve turned into,” she snarls as though her threats mean a damn thing to me.

“I’m the same person I’ve always been. It’s you who’s changed. Either that or it just got to be too much trouble for you to live two lives. Get the fuck out of my house, Melissa. Don’t let the door hit your lying ass on the way out.” I nod toward the garage entrance, just in case she’s forgotten the way.

Melissa lets out an evil laugh and shakes her head, “You stupid motherfucker. No one treats me like this. You think you’re better than me? That your precious Ashley is better than me? Let’s see who comes out on top. We could’ve been great together. Too bad you’re going to be nothing now. I always win, Tag,” she says menacingly on her way out.

Thank God! I was sick of talking in circles with her.

I head directly for the liquor cabinet. Between dealing with the constant disdain from Ashley and confronting the shit Melissa pulled, I’m exhausted. I’m tired of being the bad guy, but I guess that’s the role I’m destined to play in life. No matter what I do, I always seem to be the one who comes out of everything smelling like shit.

I grab my phone from the kitchen counter and text Alex. I’m not in the mood for company, but I’m not in the mood to be alone either. The only person who might understand what’s going on in my head right now is Alex.

Me:
Just had it out with Melissa. Feel like drinking with me?

Alex
:
I was wondering when that would happen. Yeah, I’ll be by in a bit.

Knowing I won’t be that pathetic asshole who drinks alone tonight, I hit the bottle hard. By the time Alex arrives an hour later, I’m pretty drunk.

“So, what happened?” Alex asks, swiping the bottle of Jack from my hand and taking a swig as he sits next to me on the couch.

“That bitch has gone fucking bananas. That’s what happened,” I tell him before grabbing the bottle back.

“You know you’re a Super Bowl MVP, right? I’d think you’d be classy enough to use fucking glasses,” he says, stealing the bottle again.

“You’re drinking from the bottle too, dickhead,” I point out.

Alex chuckles. “I’m not a superstar.”

“Yeah, some superstar I am. My life has basically imploded. It’s over with the love of my life, one of my best friends has gone completely mental, and now I’ve only got you. What’s going to happen to you? They say everything comes in threes, you know?” I reach for the bottle again but decide it’s too much effort, so I sit back on the couch and let Alex hold on to it for the moment.

“I’m just going to continue being awesome. Don’t you worry about that.” He smirks at me.

“Your smugness is pretty fucking annoying,” I growl.

“Oh, please. It’s payback for all those years of watching you be on top of the fucking world.” One best friend is certifiable, and now this one is an arrogant bastard.

“Fuck you! Give me back my whiskey,” I say, snatching the bottle from his hands.

“Seriously though, what went down with Melissa?” he asks.

“Dude, she basically confirmed what the girls have been saying. She’s been holding a candle for me and thought we were going to wind up married.”

“Holy shit, man! I wasn’t really sure what to believe. She never seemed like that to me over the years, but then again, I never really paid attention to signs for shit like that from her.”

“I know. I can’t believe I missed it, but she did do a damn good job of hiding it. She threatened me too. I can’t deal with her crazy! I have enough on my crazy plate with Ashley. I don’t know what to do anymore. Maybe I should just give up on Ashley. I mean, I’ve been at her side for months now, and she’s only gotten more hostile. How much more am I supposed to take, man?” I ask, wanting an honest answer.

“I don’t know. I’d like to tell you to stick it out, but I know what you’ve been through. At the end of the day, you’re only human,” he answers shaking his head. “I love Ashley, but the way she’s acting isn’t fair to you anymore. She can’t seem to get it through her head that you lost just as much as she did. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you should step back and focus on you. You haven’t had the chance to deal with the loss of Daniel, and I think you need to. Hanging around being Ashley’s punching bag isn’t doing either of you any good. She may be getting better physically, but mentally, she’s still hanging on by a thread. I know she’s been seeing a therapist, but it hasn’t helped much. Even Quinn has had just about enough of her.”

I sigh. “She’s cut me out of her life as much as possible, and even I know she’s not making any progress. I honestly think she’s getting worse. I have her back up on a fucking pedestal, but she still finds new things to blame me for day in and day out.” I hate throwing these sorts of pity parties, but I just can’t help myself right now.

“You don’t need to figure everything out tonight, buddy. Just cozy up with the bottle you have there and turn your mind off for a while. I think you’ve more than earned it.”

For the remainder of the night, Alex and I drink, joke, and watch that stupid practical joker show on TV, laughing as though we don’t have a care in the world. It’s a nice change of pace, and I find myself relaxing for the first time in a very long time. Maybe letting go of Ashley really is the best thing for everyone.

Chapter 29

Ashley

Between working with Dr. Paterson and worrying about Tanner, my mind has been swirling with thoughts of everything that’s happened in the past few months. My therapy session this week isn’t as intense the last, but she says that I’m continuing to make progress and that’s all I need to focus on. We discuss my encounter with Jason and how I’ve forgiven him.

I believe it was a sign that Jason was in the elevator after I’d left that previous session, even more so that Tanner’s late arrival gave us a few minutes to talk. I’d been surprised that Jason was the first to apologize. I hadn’t seen that one coming. His confession that his infidelity hadn’t had anything to do with me was reassuring as well. I’d racked my brain for months trying to figure out what I’d done to push him into the arms of another woman.

Dr. Paterson has pointed out that I gave Jason too much influence over my self-image. She’d quoted Eleanor Roosevelt, saying, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent”. Even though I’ve heard that quote many times, I’d never given it much thought until now. Eleanor was right, as was Dr. Paterson. I had given Jason too much power. Not anymore. We spoke and apologies were given. Time to let it go.

Letting go and beginning to heal has also consisted of lots of physical therapy. I’ve been going three times a week for two-hour sessions, and it’s fucking brutal—especially for my leg. I go home after each session and end up in bed, icing my knee and eating pain killers like candy. I’m surprised I haven’t become an addict yet. This is the position Alex finds me in when he shows up to take Quinn out to dinner, except I’ve settled on the couch instead of in my room.

“Hey, Ash. What’s with the ice pack? You didn’t eat floor again did you?” He chuckles.

“No, I had physical therapy earlier, and this is how I spend my nights afterward—ice and mind numbing pills,” I say, shaking my prescription bottle at him.

Alex approaches the couch. “You shouldn’t need those after a therapy session. Let me see your leg.” He sits beside me.

I move the bag of ice and roll up the leg of my sweatpants for him.

Alex pokes and squeezes, rotating my injured leg first to one side then the other. “You shouldn’t be this swollen either. What the hell do they have you doing?”

“A bunch of things—pointing and flexing with those colored rubber band thingies, leg lifts with weights on my ankles, squats,” I tell him as I roll my sweats back down and replace the ice on top of my knee.

“Weights and squats? Jesus Christ. You’re nowhere near ready for that shit. Where the hell have you been going?” he asks, sounding angry. The look on his face isn’t pleasant either, and he seems genuinely mad.

“The Heal Better Therapy Group.”

“Never heard of them, but you aren’t going there anymore. They’re going to do more damage than good. You should be a little sore after your sessions, but you shouldn’t be swollen or need ice and pain killers. I’m taking over your physical therapy. I should have offered from the beginning.” He shakes his head.

“How are you going to do that? You have an office you haven’t told us about?” I ask, wondering how the hell he plans to take over my therapy without a place to actually do said therapy.

Alex grins. “Technically, my office is part of the team’s facilities, but we’ll use Tanner’s home gym. He has almost everything that we’ll need, and I can pick up the few missing aids from the medical supply store. No biggie. You can keep some of the smaller items here too, so you can do lighter sessions on your own whenever you feel up to it. We can also start going for walks now that weather is getting warmer. The vitamin D might help with that pasty thing you have going on. I’m surprised Quinn hasn’t tried to make you go to a tanning salon yet.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” I say. “But I don’t think Tanner’s place is a good idea, Alex. I haven’t heard from him in almost two weeks, and I think it’s better this way. I doubt he’ll want me hanging around his house.” I don’t want to mention that I don’t think it’s good for me to be there either. I’m in a weird place emotionally when it comes to Tanner, and I haven’t sorted through my feelings about everything that’s happened since our last encounter.

“It’ll be fine. Tanner’s not here anyway. He won’t be back for a while either, and when he does, he will be in full pre-season swing. You guys won’t run into each other, and I’m sure he’d rather you get proper treatment.”