The Broken Pieces of Us (The Devil's Dust #2.1)

“You got it, babe,” I laugh, grabbing a pan to heat up.

“Seriously?” Bobby asks, his voice laced with surprise. I love to cook, more so for those who appreciate my cooking, show up and eat my food around dinner, and engage in conversation with me. I close my eyes, my mind swimming in the direction of mine and Locks’ failed relationship.

“Of course, babe, I’ll make you anything, long as you ask nicely.” I reach for the fridge and grab the carton of eggs.

“Fucking A,” Bobby mutters, making me smile.

After the boys have eaten all the eggs and drank all the orange juice, they head into their daily meeting. I sit on a stool to write a list of things to get at the store.

“I thought for sure you would have gotten the idea I didn’t want you here.”

I look up from my pad and come face to face with Locks, who has Candy wrapped around his middle. I growl in frustration. I am not about to let this fucker talk to me like this, treat me like this.

I climb off the stool and brace myself for the conversation I have been dreading. I take my gaze from the waxed wood floor to his chocolate eyes.

“Freckles,” Locks muttered, his hand spreading across my breast. I looked down at his hand, then back at his brown eyes.

“You have never ending eyes, Babs. I could get lost in them and not care less if I ever made it back,” he whispered, laid out in front of the fireplace of our shitty apartment. We had been together for a year and things were moving so fast.

“I love you, Locks.” I suddenly gasped, the thought that had been plaguing my mind for the last couple of weeks slipping its way past my tongue.

He winced, looking at the crackling fire. I closed my eyes tightly, afraid of what he was going to say next. Surely in a year’s time, he felt something for me.

I felt his hand on my face, making my eyes dart open to his chocolate ones.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

Fake giggles take me away from Locks’ eyes, away from reminiscing, and to the cheap slut standing behind him. I close my eyes, fighting the stupid memories and the puppy love of our younger years when we used to be happy and laugh at each other. Now when we’re near each other, all we do is fight and glare. It’s depressing. It angers me when someone else makes me feel happy and beautiful and it’s not my husband, like Bull does. My hands sweat and my mouth goes dry at the impulsive thought swimming my mind.

“This, uh,” I stutter, frightened to admit my first love is nothing but a distant memory. I glance at Locks, his eyes ruthless and mocking, nothing like a couple years ago. “This is not working Locks; you and I clearly have grown apart.” Before I can finish, Locks has broken from Candy’s hold and rushes at me. I inhale deeply, sucking in the scared woman who he has carved me to be and exhaling the brave courageous woman who I am.

He thrashes his hands forward and grabs ahold of my cheeks harshly.

“You are my ol’ lady till I say so,” Locks snarls. He’s hunched down and right in my line of sight. I try to pull from his grip, try to shove him away, but it’s no use. His grip just tightens painfully.

“You will be mine till the day you die and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He leans closer to my ear, his grip not letting up. “Try and run, and see what happens,” he whispers, his tone threatening.

I reach up and grab ahold of his hair, pulling on it so hard I hear the strands snap.

“Fucking bitch!” Locks shouts, letting go of my face, grabbing his head where I pulled his hair.

I look over Locks shoulder to see Candy chuckling, leaning against the wall.

“Fuck you and your stupid whore,” I insult. “You both better get used to seeing my face a lot around here, cause I ain’t going anywhere.” I grab my notepad off the bar and sling my purse over my shoulder as I head toward the exit. I put my hands on the door and push it to open, but stop. I look at Candy and glare. Her blonde hair is in a tight ponytail and she’s wearing a skimpy black dress. She raises an eyebrows at my sudden hesitation.

“If I catch you fucking my ol’ man, I’ll cut you, bitch,” I threaten. Not that I give a shit anymore, it’s about respect more than anything.

“I will be seeing you at the house tonight, Delilah!” Locks shouts, his voice angry and threatening as I leave, flipping them both off in the process.

***

I’ve looked all over the house for a gun, but Locks must have removed all of them. Afraid I would shoot him when I found out he was cheating on me probably. I lean against the counter, tapping my nails against the top, trying to think. I am angry, very angry, but not hurt. What does that say about me and Locks? I’m more pissed off at the disrespect he has displayed by sleeping around on me and everyone knowing but me and the way he hit me like I was nothing more than trash. My nails dig into the counter when I think about his words.