Chapter 2

2.

When Layla finally came home, she had fresh lipstick on.

The clothes that had been disheveled moments ago were perfectly straightened.

She tossed a small box onto the table.

"Here. I saw this and thought of you, so I used my coffee budget to get it."

I opened the box. Inside was a cheap, black braided string bracelet with a few plastic beads.

"It was expensive, but you're worth it. Aren't you touched?" she asked, leaning in close.

She acted as if our phone call earlier had never happened.

If this were yesterday, I would have been moved to tears by her thoughtfulness.

Now, it just made me want to gag.

I had seen this bracelet on the Rolex receipt. It was a free promotional gift.

I tossed it directly into the trash can.

"I don't want the freebie," I said flatly.

*Slap!* She hit me across the face with everything she had.

"Jaxson Miller, have you lost your mind?" she screamed.

"How dare you throw away a gift I bought for you!"

"So what if it's a promotional item? It's only there because I spent money on something else! It counts as a paid gift!"

"You ungrateful, low-life piece of..." she continued, her words turning into a stream of nasty insults.

My face stung, and my ears rang with her abuse.

She was from a rough part of the South, and whenever she got angry, her thick, vulgar slang came out.

I used to pretend I didn't mind, but now I realized how much she truly loathed me.

"It's disgusting," I said, standing up and pushing past her.

"Now, let's talk about the money."

I looked at her with eyes like flint.

She was beautiful, with an oval face and bright, almond-shaped eyes.

But she was a firecracker with a vicious streak.

For years, whenever she was unhappy, she took it out on me physically.

I never hit her back. I loved her too much to hurt her.

She used to take pictures of me looking defeated and post them to her private stories, bragging about how she had me whipped.

I had been a fool. I had mistaken her abuse for passion.