DECEIT (B723) by Hazel Grace (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

fistful of knuckles to her opponent’s ribs.

“You fucking bitch,” Camilla roars out, sending my heart ridged and skipping like a stone across the top of water.

For a moment in time, she would’ve been the person I was about to protect. The one I’d lay down everything for because she was the first woman I’d ever loved, to who I’d given anything to.

Camilla was supposed to be it for me.

Everything.

Then I made her into nothing and continued on with my life only to find someone who caused my heart to brim over again in a long time.

“Emmy.” Her name isn’t clipped off my lips with animosity but confusion.

How in the fuck did she run into my ex, and why is she throwing hands? 

When I reach her, I’m almost scared to wrap my arms around her.

Not because she could hurt me physically but because I don’t want to startle her. Because Emmy’s hostility is something I rarely see come out.

Also, it’s because I know there are more hidden reasons why she’s so upset.

Camilla registers my voice, locating me, and drops her defensive stance while taking a safe step back.

Emmy, on the other hand, is at the ready, just how she was trained to be.

Never trust that something is what it seems. 

Isn’t that the fucking truth?

“What are you doing?” My question is directed at no one in particular. However, neither of them gives a shit to answer it. “Camilla?”

Her eyes flick to me, and she shrugs before pointing at Emmy. “Ask your buddy. The bitch came flying at me like a lunatic.”

I frown, waiting for my little bombshell to turn around to defend herself, but she doesn’t.

She doesn’t care.

She doesn’t give a flying fuck that she looks and sounds like a psychopath who just flipped her shit on someone she barely knows.

“Why are you here?” I press as Camilla rolls her shoulders at my question because I specifically told her to stay the fuck away from my house.

She showed up earlier uninvited and only stayed because of my sister’s insistent hospitality. Now, it appears like the same shit, same Camilla.

She doesn’t listen to dick.

“I came to talk to you,” she imparts, taking half a step forward, but Emmy moves to block it.

My God, no matter what I do to this woman, she always has my back.

“Go home,” I order flatly, wanting to get rid of my ex so I can talk to my recent one.

Cam points another accusing finger at Emmy. “She attacked me.”

“I’ll handle it.” Camilla’s features harden as her thumb comes up to graze underneath her nostrils, displaying blood on the tip.

“Yeah…get your bitch in line.” She keeps her laser-focus locked on Emmy. “Next time, I’ll be ready.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Emmy mutters. “Remember what I said.”

Camilla scoffs and steps forward.

She shouldn’t.

That’s where Emmy has the upper hand on everyone. She appears sweet and lovable. The kind of girl that wouldn’t hurt a fly. The type of chick that doesn’t dabble in violence and death for the protection of their country.

She’s one of us. She’s part of me.

“You won’t be telling me what to do,” Camilla snarls back, forever ignoring what I want her to do. “You hold no authority around here.”

“Actually, she does.” I erase some space between Emmy and I. “She’s my fucking wife.”

Camilla’s head slowly turns to me, and with the limited amount of light, I can still see the disbelief in her eyes.

I guess when you spend so much time in the dark, it gets easier to see in it. Plus, the idea of my being married would be hard for anyone to believe.

Cam pivots and starts down my long driveway, not waiting for another word of how my life has changed.

I told her it did. The woman in front of me’s title says it all.

Camilla used to dream about it; we spoke about it enough, and I almost gave it to her, but she royally fucked it up for the both of us.

Meanwhile, Emmy stole my attention and captured what I thought was long gone.

What I believed was destroyed.

It was crazy to realize that my beating heart that was tattered and scarred was still able to crave and need for the woman who is my wife.

Emmy still remains grounded to her spot, watching Camilla disappear into the darkness of the night. Since her back is to me, still not acknowledging my presence, I don’t know if her face equals Cam’s somewhat battered one, but I don’t make a move to examine it.

I wait for her to come to me.

But stubbornness is a big hurdle that both of us have yet to jump. She won’t open up to me anymore because I hurt her. She’s locked her emotions away without a key.

She cemented the damn shit.

The moment Emmy can’t see anything anymore, she suddenly spins and walks past me, not bothering to utter a single word to explain herself.

I follow.

I trail behind because I’m still registering what the hell happened. What she’s doing and how she started this shit.

“Emmy.” My voice is stern and pregnant with a need for a conversation which is surprising because usually, I’d rather not have them at all.

She slows down then turns, cocking that beautiful face to the side, and my eyes scan over her features, looking for blood or bruises. “Yes?”

I erase the space in the middle of us, using the sparse lighting of the porch to get a good look at her, but it’s useless and ineffective.

“What are you doing?”

“I was fighting,” she drones. “What did it look like I was doing?”

“Do I really need to ask why so you fill me in on the details?”

She lifts her shoulders. “No, I found out who she was. I learned that she was your high school sweetheart, that she lived here, and that she got hooked on cocaine, and I filled in the rest of the blanks myself. She’s more than likely the reason why you’re so shut off. Some of the reasons why you and I didn’t and don’t work. You don’t get close