67

Fire like never before rises in my veins and images of him with my beautiful little angel, my Gwen, nearly cuts me open. Nausea clogs my throat and I want to fucking kill him. So I stagger to my feet and grab the gun, then point it at him. “You shouldn’t have touched her, Nate. Best friends don’t touch their friends’ kids.” “Don’t you think I tried not to?” “You should’ve tried fucking harder.” I approach him with the gun and put it to his forehead. “Put it away, you idiot. If I die and you go to prison, she’ll have no one.” When I don’t make a move to comply, he grabs the gun and throws it on the sofa. “I’ll find a way to kill you without getting caught then. Now get the fuck out of my house and don’t ever show me or my daughter your face again.” “That’s impossible since you’re my partner and she’s my wife.” “Like fuck she is. You will divorce her.” “No.” “What the fuck did you just say?” “Unless she wants the divorce, it won’t be happening.” He staggers to his feet, grabbing his ribs