I slide my fingers over the scar on my wrist, remembering how utterly overwhelmed I was with grief. Lacking the ability to handle intense emotion, I did the only thing I knew how to do to relieve the pain. “I thought I loved you. I would have done anything for you. But I don’t think you ever really loved me. You don’t hurt the people you love. You don’t hit them. You don’t put them down. You don’t tell them they’re worthless.”

    His face hardens, his tight, angry expression so familiar a shiver runs down my spine. “What the fuck?” His hands ball into fists on the table. “Did you come here for a shag or to waste my fucking time? You want to hear the truth? Fine. The truth is no, I didn’t love you. But I put up with your fucked-up shit because you were a good lay and I needed someone to cook and clean for me. And then you got into law school and started thinking you were better than me, so I had to keep reminding you of your fucking place. You didn’t seem to understand that you were so broken no one else would have you. But were you grateful I took pity on you? No. You gave me attitude, and I gave it right back.”

    His words and his demeanor don’t surprise me, but my reaction does. I imagined this moment countless times over the years. I imagined shouting at him, throwing a drink in his face, punching him the way he punched me. But now that the moment is here, I feel nothing. No sadness. No fear. No anger. No burning need for vindication or revenge. He has confirmed what I always knew. I said what I had to say. And I know now what we felt for each other wasn’t love. Because I’ve felt love, and it takes my breath away.

    “Thank you for still being a right bastard.” I wrap my hand around my glass, contemplate tossing the drink in his face just to make Cora smile. “Because if you’d had even a shred of decency, I would never have come to America. I would never have changed my life. And I would never have fallen in love.”

    “What the fuck are you talking about?” he mutters.

    “She’s talking about me.”

    I look up, and there is Jack, his face lit up with a breathtaking smile. With a huff, I turn away. He may have tracked me down and is gearing up to punch my ex, but there’s something I need to hear him say.

    “You wish,” I mutter.

    “You love me,” Jack says. “I know you do. You said it.”

    “Maybe I changed my mind after you were such an ass.” I look over at the biggest ass in the world sitting across from me at the table and smile. “You two have a lot in common.”

    Jack growls, deep in his chest. “He’s your ex, isn’t he? Well, I’m nothing like that piece of shit.”

    “Fucking wanker.” Adam moves to stand, and Ray appears out of nowhere and pushes him back down.

    “I know who you are, and that means we’re not done with you,” Ray warns.

    Jack gets down on one knee. He clasps my hand, presses his lips to my knuckles. “I fucked up. I said stuff I shouldn’t have said and stuff I didn’t mean. I know you tried. I know you couldn’t say anything. And even if you had told me about the cameras, I wouldn’t have stopped going to the club. I’m not the kind of man who bows to threats. I meet my enemies head-on.” He glances over at Adam and then back to me. “Like you.”

    Ray barks a laugh. “You grovel good. It’s not a skill I picked up easily. I can’t even count the number of times I had to sleep on the couch until I learned how to say sorry.”

    I press my lips together, fight back a smile. “It’s the accent. Everything sounds sexy with that soft Tennessee twang.”

    “So I’m forgiven?” He gives my hand a squeeze, and I shake my head.

    “Not yet. I’m going to make you suffer first. I have a little bit of sadist in me.”

    Jack leans in and whispers in my ear. “You’re gonna have a lot of sadist in you as soon as we deal with this tosser.”

    “Tosser?”

    “I learned a few British words on the drive to find you.” He kisses my cheek, and warmth spreads through my body. “I thought I should learn all the insults so I would understand what you said when I found you.”

    Adam rolls his eyes. “What the fuck is this? Why the fuck did you call me? Did you think I was going to feel jealous that someone else picked up my broken piece of trash? I never thought about you from the day I kicked you out until I started my psych course and realized you would make a perfect case study ’cause you’re the most twisted, broken bitch I know.”

    Ray’s face smooths into an expressionless mask. “Just confirming. This is the ex?”

    I came here for closure, not revenge, but maybe I do want some payback after all.

    “Yes.” I briefly consider listing out all the abuse I suffered at Adam’s hands—emotional and physical—but it doesn’t really matter. For men like Ray and Jack, he crossed a line with the very first punch, and his punishment will be the same.

    “The one who hurt you?” Jack’s voice is deceptively mild, but I can feel the anger rolling off his body in waves.

    “Yes.”

    Ray turns to Cora, who has just returned to the table, an apologetic look on her face. “We’re gonna need a clear path to the back door. Blade Saw is out there. He’ll give you a hand.”

    Her eyes go wide. “Jimmy?”

    “You think he was gonna get left behind when his woman was on the road in a potentially dangerous situation?”

    A smile tugs at her lips, and she leans in to whisper. “His woman.” And then louder she says, “Got it. I think we can manage a distraction.”

    “You got two choices,” Jack says to Adam after Cora slips away. “You can walk with us out the back door, or we’ll drag you by your fucking hair.”

    Clearly unaware of the danger, Adam snorts a laugh. “This has nothing to do with you. And if you think I’m going anywhere…” His voice trails off when Jack grabs his shirt and yanks him out of his seat.