The Rescuer by Ann Omasta

Author:Ann Omasta [Omasta, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-11-28T06:00:00+00:00

12

“Get out!” Cade’s voice was completely devoid of any emotion other than pure disgust, tinged with hatred, as he pointed at the door, indicating for me to leave.

It was nothing less than what I had expected, yet it still hurt to see how his loving and kind blue gaze had quickly morphed into a cold, hard stare. He was looking at me like I was the lowest of the low, and that was exactly how I felt.

Somehow, I managed to gather my clothes and cover myself with them. I held my ruined silk shirt together with the one remaining button and my hand, since the other buttons had been scattered.

I swiped at my tear-covered face with my sleeve, knowing that the shirt was already beyond repair and needing to try to clear my blurry vision. After stuffing my panties and bra into my purse and donning my skirt and shoes, I made the walk of shame to his front door.

Unable to face him, but needing to make a feeble attempt to clear the air, I stared at the door and said, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond. His silence was not surprising, and it revealed more than a thousand words could say.

Needing to get out of there before I started sobbing uncontrollably, I scrambled to open the door and stumbled out to my car. As I sat in the safety of my own vehicle, I struggled to hold down the bitter bile that threatened to rise in my throat. I was utterly unsure what to do now.

I jumped slightly when I heard Cade’s front door slam shut with a boom of finality. Suddenly, the emotions of the past twenty-four hours bubbled up and demanded release. Resting my head on the steering wheel of my car, I let out a hiccup sob. Before long, I was bawling like a baby.

The realization that I had made a stupid decision that would most likely ruin the rest of my life crashed down on me. How could I have been so dumb? What had I been thinking? There must have been a better way. This had all been my own fault.

I have no idea how long I sat there sobbing and berating myself. By the time I had myself pulled together enough to drive, I had shed more tears than I normally do over the course of five years.

“What’s done is done.” I said the words out loud to the empty car, trying to believe them. “Now I have to live with the consequences of my actions.”

As I made the drive to my apartment, I replayed in my mind the horrific scene that had just happened with Cade. He had been such a tender and talented lover that I had almost been able to forget for a moment the massive guilt that was pressing down on me, like a giant weight on my shoulders.

When we finished, rather than the delightful afterglow that should have accompanied having such fulfilling sex, the oppressive shame came rushing in like a freight train.

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