What the hell do you think you’re doing in my bed? Edward Hawthorne’s voice shattered the stillness like a hammer against glass. He stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, his tall frame rigid with rage, disbelief carved into every hard line of his face. Rainwater dripped from his coat, but he didn’t seem to notice.
All his attention was locked on the woman in his bed, Maya Williams. She shot up from the mattress, heart pounding, eyes wide, not with guilt, but with shock. The twin boys, Ethan and Eli, lay curled on either side of her, finally asleep, their faces soft, breathing deep.
The teddy bear in Ethan’s arms rose and fell in rhythm with his chest. “I can explain,” Maya said quietly, trying not to wake the boys. Her hands lifted slightly, calm, open. They were scared. Eli started crying. Ethan got a nose bleed. Edward didn’t let her finish. His palm came down fast, a sharp crack echoing off the walls as it struck her cheek.
Be First to Comment