He cheated i chose two firefighters novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Scar’s POV

Dear Diary

My chest feels like it’s been split open. I opened my eyes this morning and the first thing I

saw was proof–my husband on a video, inside another woman, calling her “baby,” doing

things to her that he has never once done to me.

So that’s it? That’s why he stepped out? Because he wanted dirtier sex.

The sick part is I wanted it too. He could’ve had it with me. I have tried to push us into more -more freedom, more heat, more anything–but every time I reached for it, he shut it down

with that same line: “No, Scar. You’re too good for that.”

Too good. Like wanting to put my mouth on him, wanting him to smack my ass, wanting

him to take me from behind makes me damaged. Like craving him to go down on me, to

bring toys into bed, to maybe even try a threesome makes me unworthy.

What’s wrong with me that he wouldn’t want those things with me, but he’ll do them for her?

I can’t stay here. I can’t risk running into him–or worse, seeing them together like some ready–made family. I don’t think I could survive watching him smiling beside her and her daughter while I’m by myself, unwanted, and aching.

And the pattern. God, the pattern.

When I look back, it’s not just him. Declan–my first–was already sleeping with my so- called best friend in high school when he took my virginity. He even said her name when he

finished.

Then Trevor. Six months of my life, and he was juggling me and one of my coworkers. The truth fell out in the most humiliating way, when I showed her a photo of him and me at the Omaha Zoo. She went pale, swore he was her boyfriend, and shoved her own picture in my

face–him and her in Jamaris. I ended it right there.

So tell me, Diary.

What is it about me that makes men do this?

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My hands were still trembling, even after the third replay. I kept staring like if I watched it enough times it would turn into something else–some misunderstanding, some nightmare I could wake up from.

“Stop,” Natalie said, reaching for my phone. “Give it to me. You’re doing this to yourself.”

I yanked it back. “No. I need it in my head–etched there. If I ever see them again, I want to

be able to pull it up and feel the rage.” Tears kept spilling, hot and constant.

“Scar, please. This is only going to cut you deeper.”

“He filmed it,” I screamed. “He filmed himself fucking her!”

Natalie’s face tightened. “Are you sure it was really him in his right mind? Look at him. He’s

slurring. He’s clumsy. You can literally watch him nod off. Then she gets up and grins at the

phone like she won a prize. That trash set him up.”

“It doesn’t change it,” I snapped, staring down at the screen like it had teeth. “He still did it.

And he did it without a condom. A thousand dollars says she ends up pregnant.”

I texted him one sentence: sign the divorce papers.

It was the bare minimum.

“I’m going,” I told Natalie. “I love you. Thank you for… dealing with me.”

She shook her head like it was nothing. “I’ll deal with you forever. You’re my other half.”

A laugh slipped out, small and shaky, and we held on to each other hard.

“I’m going to miss you,” she breathed.

“I’ll miss you too.”

I left not long after.

Last night, I had looked up Florida. Something about the name Hollywood made me curious -until I realized there’s literally a Hollywood, Florida, and I laughed at myself in the dark. I’ve been sheltered my whole life. In twenty–five years, I’ve barely gone anywhere: Nebraska

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to Montana, and one trip to Spain. That’s basically my entire map.

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Spain is where my dad was raised until he turned fifteen. My grandmother ran there–ran with him—because my grandfather was evil. Not “bad husband” bad. Monster bad. Arrested for murdering multiple women. He hid behind my grandmother like she was a curtain, played the role of family man while he did unthinkable things.

For years I wondered if my grandmother had almost been one of his victims.

Later, I learned it had been arranged.

My dad was born a year after that marriage started. Then, when my dad was fifteen, he

found a young woman clawing her way out of an underground bunker on their property. My grandmother and father helped her and called the police–without realizing what that call would uncover. My grandfather had been abducting and killing girls since he was twenty.

So my grandmother grabbed my father and disappeared before the scandal and the man

could swallow them too.

Of all places, she landed in Nebraska.

She’d gotten passports, bought plane tickets, and thrown a dart at a map. Nebraska won.

She knew English, thank God, and got hired tutoring the kids of a wealthy family. They lived

in Kaerwyn. Years later, my dad met my mom, they had me, and when I went off to college,

they moved back to Spain.

They’d met Brennan only a few times–when they visited, and once when we did.

After the wedding, my father tried to buy us a house. Brennan refused, and for once I’m

grateful for his pride. Dad didn’t want to offend him, so he gave the money to me instead

and told me to hide it for “a rainy day,” without Brennan knowing.

I never told Brennan.

Now I’m glad I didn’t.

I have savings. If I’m careful, it’ll keep me afloat for months.

I started the drive with an everything bagel smothered in cream cheese and a caramel iced coffee, because today the calories can go to hell. I sang with the radio and kept trying not to let Brennan’s name take up space in my head.

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But the video kept trying to break through.

Every time it rose up, I sang louder. Thank God I can sing.

Before I even reached the highway, I was stopped at a light, belting Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” like it was a survival tactic. I threw myself into the last lines–full voice,

full heart–until I heard whistles.

Cheers.

I blinked and turned my head to the left.

My window was down.

Two ridiculously attractive guys in the next car were hyping me up like I was onstage. Heat rushed to my face so fast I thought my skin might catch fire. The moment the light went green, I slammed the accelerator and shot forward.

Then I started laughing–real laughter, surprised by it.

Maybe that’s a good sign.

Maybe it means I’m not shattered all the way through.

My phone rang and the caller ID flashed on the car’s display. I hit answer.

“Hi, Mama Cici.”

“So you left my useless son,” she said, sharp and breathless. “And you weren’t going to tell

me?”

“I didn’t want to put you in the middle,” I said. “He cheated. I can’t stay married to someone

who cheats.”

“I get it,” she replied, voice dropping. “He told me you caught them on her front porch. He

sounds sorry, Scar.”

My stomach turned. “Oh. So… you don’t know.”

“Know what?”

I swallowed. “Maybe you should call Brennan. I don’t think I should be the one to say it.”

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“You can tell me just as well as he can,” she said. “What difference does it make?”

She wasn’t wrong.

“I got a video this morning,” I said, and even saying it made my throat burn. “He fucked her on the living room floor.” The image punched through my mind and I flinched.

She gasped.

And then she unleashed a string of profanity so vicious my jaw fell open.

“Mama Cici!”

“Oh, don’t you ‘Mama Cici‘ me,” she snapped. “I’m furious. I’m getting in my car right now, and I’ve got his daddy’s belt. Where are you? We’ll get breakfast.”

“I’m already on the road,” I told her. “I’m leaving.”

“No,” she whispered, horrified. “Scar. Please.”

“I can’t stay here,” I said. “Please… make him sign the divorce papers. He owes me that

much.”

Silence.

I let it sit. I could hear her breathing, heavy and unsteady, and then the sound of her engine

turning over.

“Don’t drive angry,” I warned. “I don’t want you wrecking.”

“Don’t you worry about me, baby,” she said. “I’ll calm down before I put this car in gear. I understand why you’re doing it. I love you. You have been the best daughter–in–law a

woman could ever ask for. Just–don’t erase me from your life.”

“Never,” I sobbed. I wiped my cheeks fast because the highway was coming up. “I love you

too. Take care of yourself.”

“I will, darlin‘. Focus on the road now. Bye–bye.”

The call ended.

As I merged onto the highway, I finally let myself cry again. I was going to miss her so

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I cursed Brennan for being so stupid, so careless, so willing to throw us away.

When Reba McEntire’s “Fancy” came on, I turned it up and sang into the open air like the

sound could carry me somewhere new.