Chapter Forty-Five

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"What are you doing here?"

How many times have I imagined this moment? How many times did I dream of it? When I'd lay in bed at night, I used to picture him showing up at my front door. He'd tell me he made a mistake. He'd tell me it was over between him and Chelsea, that I was the only woman he's ever loved, and then he'd beg me to take him back, and I would – every single time. I prayed for that moment. I thought if I imagined it enough, I could manifest it. Every time my phone rang, or there was a knock at the door, I hoped it'd be him. But it never was.

I've wanted him to come for me so many times, but now that he's here, all I feel is disappointment, and rightfully annoyed.

I move toward Will but Greyson steps in front of me, blocking my way. I know he's just being protective, but if I'm going to get answers, I need him to back off a little bit. I lift my hand and press it against his back to let him know I'm okay. He moves, but barely.

"I came to get you. I'm taking you back to New York with me."

"The fuck you are!" Greyson shouts. I can feel anger radiating off him. "She isn't going –"

"What do you mean you're taking me back to New York?" I interrupt. "We're in the middle of a divorce."

"That's a mistake, sweetie. I messed up."

"Damn right you did," Greyson says.

"I want to work things out. You're my wife, Delaney. We shouldn't throw our marriage away over one stupid mistake." He takes a step toward me and reaches for my hands, but I cross my arms over my chest and back away from him. "I ended things with Chelsea."

His face is set in the stoic expression I've grown so used to. The one I've seen him use in court – and with me – a thousand times, and as usual, I can't tell if he's being honest, or if he's playing me.

"Is that true?" I ask.

"Yes. She moved out a few days ago."

"Did you end things with her, or did she break up with you and move out on her own?" Greyson asks.

Will sighs and drops his eyes to the ground. "She broke up with me and moved out on her own. But it was over before it even started. If she hadn't ended it first, I would have. Eventually."

"Eventually. He would have ended it eventually. What a stand-up guy." Greyson starts clapping exaggeratedly. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Sweetie, please listen to me," Will begs. "I don't want a divorce. Not anymore. I never should have let you leave."

I tighten my arms around myself and nod in agreement. "You're right. You shouldn't have. And it wasn't one stupid mistake, Will. You didn't get drunk and have a one-night stand. You slept with another woman. For months! You brought her into our home, and then you ended our marriage to pursue a relationship with her. I can't ever trust you again."

"Please, Delaney. I miss you so much. I don't even know who I am, or where I'm going, or what to do without you. I'm lost without you. I love you. You're the only one for me."

My heart drops the moment I hear the words leave his mouth. Not only is Will an attorney – and a damn good one at that – he's also a raging narcissist. He knows exactly what to say to get what he wants, and the fact that we were together for seven years doesn't make this any easier. He knows what to say to break me down. But Greyson showers me with sincere praise and tells me how important I am to him every single day, and when he kisses me and says I'm the only one for him, I feel it in my bones. If he and I hadn't rekindled our relationship – even just as friends – and he hadn't helped me get my strength and confidence back, I'd already be on a plane on my way back to New York with Will.

I shrug my shoulders, aloofly. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I know I hurt you. I just...I needed to lose you to realize how important you are to me. I didn't know how much I loved you until you were gone."

If it wasn't already over between Will and I, those words would have just sealed the deal. We had problems throughout our relationship, but not once did I need to lose him to love him. I never needed space, or time, or to sleep with someone else to reevaluate our relationship. On our wedding day, I vowed to love him through the worst of times, and I meant it. Will didn't hold up his vows, and I can't love someone with everything I have if they don't love me back. I won't.

"See, that's the difference between you and I," I say. "I didn't. I was prepared to love you for the rest of my life. But you ruined everything, and you can't take it back. You can't fix this."

A heavy sigh fills the silence between the three of us, and when I look at Greyson he's staring at me, his eyes filled with anguish. I understand all of this is hard for him to hear. To listen to me tell another man how I once loved him without a shadow of a doubt, and wanted to spend my life with him, but this is probably the last conversation Will and I are ever going to have. If I want him to understand how I feel, I need to be honest.

I open my mouth, hoping something reassuring will magically come to mind and spill out, but I don't know what to say to make this all easier for him. He seems to understand though, because when I step toward him and wrap my hand around his bicep, opening my mouth again to find nothing comes out, he shakes his head and smiles, letting me know without having to say, "This moment is about you. Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"What about what you said in the coffee shop? You said you wanted to fix this. That you wanted to fix us. You said that! You told me that people make mistakes. You said you just wanted to be us again," Will says.

"That was a long time ago. I'm not the Delaney that met you at that coffee shop anymore."

"Delaney!" Will roars. "We're leaving now!"

Greyson has been patient. He's been lingering near the doorway the entire time, remaining quiet and giving me the space he thinks I need, but the second Will's voice raises he's by my side, pushing him back.

"Okay. That's enough." Will looks down at Greyson's hand on his chest, and looks back at me, and if I wasn't so concerned with this escalating, I'd laugh at the baffled look on his face. "I think it's time you leave."

He pushes Greyson's hand away and charges toward me. "I didn't come here to play games, Delaney. Go upstairs and pack your things. I'll be waiting in the car."

"Did you not hear me? I said she's not going anywhere."

Greyson steps in front of me, crossing his arms over his puffed-out chest, and I swear I watch his six-foot-four frame grow five inches. Will is tall and lean, and even though I've never seen him in action, I'm pretty sure he can hold his own in a fight. But Greyson is strong, and he's getting angrier by the second, and from my angle it's like he's towering over him the way the Empire State Building towers over a sightseer.

"Hey, pal, stay out of this," Will suggests, condescendingly.

"Pal?" Greyson turns to me, an annoyed look on his face. "Why does everyone think it's okay to call me pal? Is it a vibe I give off, or something?"

Even though the space between us is growing more tense, I can't help but chuckle - thinking back to the night at the Climax opening when Greyson threatened to put the guy who kept harassing me in the hospital - because the answer is no. He definitely doesn't give off a pal kind of vibe.

"Okay, let's all just take a –"

"What are you even doing here?" Will asks, interrupting my attempt to settle both of them down. "Who are you?"

"Oh, come on. You were with Delaney for years. You expect me to believe you don't know who I am?"

The thing is, I know Will is lying. He knows exactly who Greyson is, and he's pretending not to recognize him for one of two reasons. One, because he doesn't want Greyson to think I ever talked about him, or two, because he's trying to make him angrier than he already is. Knowing Will, I'm going to assume it's the latter.

Will smiles and his eyes widen in fake realization. "Wait a minute. You're the baseball player she used to date, like...a million years ago, aren't you? The one who got to the pros and couldn't hack it with the big boys."

"You better watch your mouth."

"You are! Oh man, this is great." An evil smile stretches across Will's face, and he begins to laugh. "Do you think she's actually going to be with you? That she's gonna forget all about her life in New York and move to the sticks?"

"The life you made her run from? That life?"

The cruel smile falls from Will's face for only a second – putting a small crack in the mask of intimidation he's trying to wear – but he recovers quickly and lifts his hand, pointing his index finger in Greyson's face.

"You speak truth, my friend. My mistake caused her to run, but who was she calling in the middle of the night when she got here? Begging to be taken back and making promises she intended to keep. Me, not you. Remember that, pal."

Greyson hands are shaking at his sides, and I wince as I watch him ball them into tight fists. I don't think he'd actually hit Will, but everyone has their breaking point, and Greyson's getting close to reaching his.

"You have about three seconds to get off this porch and away from Delaney before I fucking make you," Greyson orders. His voice is low, and stern, and thick with anger. I've never heard him talk to someone like this before, and if I'm being honest, I'm actually a little afraid. "And if you think I won't follow through, test me. Please."

"Is that a threat, McKinnie? I'm an attorney with important friends in high places. I suggest you take that back."

"Putting you in your place is a risk I'm willing to take," he says through clenched teeth.

I maneuver my way around Greyson without him noticing and somehow manage to squeeze myself in between them. I have to stop this before they tear each other's heads off.

"Enough!" I reach up and press the palms of my hands against both of their chests, and my breath catches in my throat when I feel Will wrap his hand around my wrist and pull me toward him. His grip is tight, and a twinge up pain shoots up my forearm, causing me to cry out. "Ow! That hurts!"

Will immediately drops my wrist and backs away, throwing his arms up in submission. He's never put his hands on me before, and I've never had to worry that he was going to, so the look on his face right now is one I've never seen before. He's scared. His eyes are wide and wild, like a deer in headlights, and they keep dropping to my fingers as I rub my wrist.

Greyson grabs a fistful of his blue-and-white striped dress shirt and shoves him back, nearly tossing both of them down the front steps.

"You don't ever put your hands on her!" he yells. "Do you hear me?"

Will's eyes pinch shut and he tilts his head, almost like he's anticipating a punch. Greyson is angry, sure, but he's smart enough to know not to attack Will – an actual lawyer.

At least I think so.

"Tell me you hear me, you fucking piece of shit!"

"Greyson, stop!" I shout, frantically. "Let him go."

"Get off me! Get the fuck off me!" Will tears Greyson's hands from his shirt and straightens himself out. His frantic eyes dart from me to Greyson, then back to me. "Seriously, Delaney? Are you really gonna stay in this town, with him, for the rest of your life? He's a washed-up, unemployed failure! He's a loser! And you're a loser too if you stay here."

"I'm so serious, man." Greyson begins to laugh to himself, but it's a wicked, unpleasant laugh, and it's a scary sound. It's not at all the friendly, animated one I've grown accustomed to. "You need to back off and leave her alone."

"Look," I say, stepping in between them. "Greyson's right. I think it's best if you leave."

"You can't be serious. I came all this – wait a minute." He folds his hands behind his head and smirks. "Are you...you're sleeping with him, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" True, sex with Greyson has been on my mind more lately than it probably should be, but Will doesn't know we've been seeing each other, and even if he did, it's none of his business. At least I waited until I was single to hop into bed with someone else. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"You've got a lot of nerve asking me if I'm sleeping with anyone. Considering you've been fucking someone else since God knows when."

Greyson steps up beside me and gently wraps his hand around the back of my neck. "If I were you, Will," he taunts, malice in his tone. "I'd turn around, get in my rental, and go back to New York."

"Not without Delaney."

"Do you honestly think she'll leave with you after everything you did?" Greyson stalks toward him – closing the already small space between them – and gets so close to his face their noses are practically touching. "I know what you did to her, and all the ways you hurt her. I know all the horrible things you said. The horrible things you did. All the ways you tormented her simply because you're a weak, pathetic excuse of a man who's too afraid to stand up to the people you're actually scared of, so you bullied your wife – the woman you mentally beat down to the point that she was so unsure of herself she did and said anything you wanted. She told me how you made her feel so small and insignificant. How you made her feel invisible. I know everything. We all do." Will's jaw tenses as he peeks at me over Greyson's shoulder. The old me would have been intimidated by this look, but not anymore. "She may have called you a few times when she first got here, and we all understand why. I have to ask though, who was by her side when she had a panic attack so bad she thought she was dying? I was. Who comforted her, and wiped her tears while she cried herself to sleep every night? Her family. Who pulled her out of the deep, dark hole you so callously dropped her into? She did. Yet, you have the audacity to show up here and demand she leave with you? She'll never trust you again."

"Guys, I'm right here. I can speak for myself," I say.

"You're right. I didn't make it in the pros. I came home and lived with my parents until I could get my life together. I have some unresolved anger issues because of what happened to me, but wouldn't you if the thing you worked so hard for and finally achieved was suddenly taken away from you? You may think I'm a loser..." Greyson steps back and shrugs. "But at least my daddy doesn't wish I was a stain on the bedsheets."

The tension has gotten so hostile it's no longer tension – it's pure detestation for each other. The rage storm between them is strong – like an EF5 tornado that just touched ground – and if I don't do something, one of them is bound to explode.

"Alright. Let's all calm down. Please?" I beg. "I think we need some space."

"I'm not going to say it again, Delaney. Let's go!"

He grabs my arm again, but this time he wraps his fingers around my bicep, his grip tight and rough, and begins to pull me down the front steps and toward his rental car. I try to fight him, but he's pulling with such force it feels like he's about to rip my arm out of its socket. For the first time ever, I'm afraid of Will and what he might do in order to get his way.

"Hey!" Greyson bellows. He grabs Will's wrist, gripping it so tight his knuckles turn white. "I told you not to put your hands on her!"

Will doesn't loosen his hold on me, but somehow, I wiggle free and move to hide behind Greyson. He swathes his arm around me, protectively, and I clutch his forearm with a shaky hand. Will's eyes drop to my hold on Greyson and back up to me. He nods to himself as he slowly starts to back away.

"You know what? You can have her. If you got her to open her legs, which you clearly did, I don't want her back. Enjoy my sloppy seconds, McKinnie. Maybe she won't lay like a corpse when you fuck her like she did for me," Will hisses, his voice laden with venom.

"You fucking son of a bitch!"

It happens so quickly I couldn't stop him even if I tried. One minute he's standing in front of me, and the next, he's launching himself across the porch. By the time I actually hear the words that have just come out of Will's mouth, Greyson already has him on the ground in a chokehold. It's like a scene from a movie. Everything is moving in slow motion, and the only thing I can hear is my breath falling out in slow, heavy bursts, and my pulse thumping in my ears. My ex/maybe current boyfriend and my soon-to-be ex-husband are in an actual fist fight on my front yard, and I have no idea how to stop them. They're like two caged animals right now, and if I get between them, there's a chance I'll get hurt in the crossfire, but I doubt asking politely is an option either.

How has this Lifetime Movie Network drama become my life?

I run to the front door and throw it open. "Dad! I need your help!" I turn around just in time to see Greyson punch Will across the face so hard his head bounces off the ground. "And I really need you to hurry!"

My father's boots thump against the hardwood as he stumbles out the door, studying me with fear in his eyes. "Delaney, what's –" He must hear the animalistic grunts coming from the yard because he peeks over my shoulder and nearly knocks me over to get to them.

I don't realize I'm crying until I shove my fingers through my hair and strands stick to my wet cheeks. Greyson sounds possessed as he continues to strike Will, and every time I hear the wet smack of his fist on Will's flesh, my stomach turns.

My father grabs the back of Greyson's shirt and lifts him off the ground, and what I see terrifies me. He's like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth. There is blood all over his hands and splashed across his t-shirt. He's screaming, though he's so full of rage I can barely make out any of what he's saying. His face is bright red, and thick veins are protruding out of his neck in such a way I'm afraid they might burst if he continues to yell the way he is.

"Dad, help him! Please!" I beg, only I'm not sure who I'm protecting. Am I asking him to help Greyson before he commits murder, or am I asking him to help Will before he gets seriously hurt? "Make them stop!"

Greyson is much taller than my father, but something happens to men when they experience an adrenaline rush. It's like they become superheroes, with super strength, and can fight off the strongest demons.

My father wraps one arm around Greyson's neck and the other around his waist and pulls him away from Will. "Okay, calm down son. Just calm down!" he coaxes. "He's not worth it!"

"Let me go!"

"You know I can't do that."

"He put his hands on her! I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna fucking kill him!"

"No, you're not, Grey," my father says. His cheek is pressed against the side of Greyson's head as he whispers in his ear, trying to calm him down. "I know you're angry, but I need you to relax. You can't protect her from jail."

With all the strength he has, he moves up the stairs – holding Greyson as tight as he can – and pulls him into the house.

I don't know what to do. Most of me wants to follow them into the house to make

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