Chapter 1The second Dane pushed inside me—slicked up with what I thought was lube—I didn't get the rush I'd been waiting for.
What I got instead was a vicious, burning pain that made my vision blur.
I tried to pull away, panic spiking through my chest.
THUD.
Someone rolled out from under the bed.
"DUDE! You actually went through with it! I fucking KNEW you had the guts!"
Chelsea. Dane's best friend since high school. His partner in crime.
I stared at them both, my brain refusing to catch up.
Chelsea waved a tube of wasabi paste in my face, grinning like an idiot.
"Dane lost at Truth or Dare, so he had to swap the lube for this bad boy. You can handle a little joke, right, Mrs. Hart?"
The pain was so intense I could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak.
Dane leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed, looking way too proud of himself.
"Relax. She's fine."
"She's the one who wanted this so bad. Now she can deal with it."
I smiled through the tears running down my face.
Fine. You want to play it like that?
Watch me take everything you have.
...
I didn't look back as I stumbled into an Uber and told the driver to get me to the hospital. Now.
Behind me, I could still hear them—guys and girls alike—laughing like this was the funniest thing they'd ever seen.
Dane, I'm done. I mean it this time.
I gritted my teeth through check-in, doing everything I could to keep my face blank.
Sweat dripped down my temples.
But when I finally made it to the OB-GYN wing, the waiting room was packed.
"Excuse me—how much longer do you think the wait is?"
I asked the receptionist, barely keeping my voice steady.
The older woman behind the desk didn't even glance up.
"You in a rush? Should've thought about that before you had your fun, honey."
I pressed my palm against the wall to keep from collapsing, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the glass—pale, hollow-eyed, barely hanging on.
I wanted to scream at her. But I didn't have the strength left.
Buzz.
My phone lit up. A text from Dane.
I blinked. It had been nearly six months since he'd texted me first.
My hands trembled as I unlocked the screen.
He'd sent me a contact card. A gynecologist.
My stupid, traitorous heart actually skipped a beat.
I opened the message and dialed the number.
...
"You're Dane's wife, right?"
He steered me toward the exam table. The metal was ice-cold against my legs.
"Alright, bottoms off."
The room felt too big, too quiet. My heart was racing.
I forced the words out.
"Is there... a female doctor available?"
He had a mask on, so I couldn't see his face clearly.
But I could FEEL the hostility radiating off him.
"Bodies are bodies. Gender doesn't matter in medicine. What's your problem?"
"Dane's always complaining about how difficult you are. Guess he wasn't exaggerating."
I bit down hard on my lip. It was the only thing keeping me grounded.
I stripped. Positioned myself on the stirrups.
Then—
A loud, mocking laugh rang out above me.
My humiliation was COMPLETE.
"What the hell is so funny?" I snapped.
"Wow. Sex life at home must be ROUGH, huh?"
"You're so desperate you're using wasabi to get yourself off? Jesus Christ."
"No wonder Dane ditched you on your wedding night to go see Chelsea. And frankly? You're loose as hell. I know a surgeon who does vaginal tightening. Want his number?"
My mind went BLANK.
"Dane was with Chelsea on our wedding night?"
But the next morning, when I'd woken up, Dane had been sitting right there on the edge of the bed. Fully dressed. Looking at me with those soft, adoring eyes.
He'd pulled out this gorgeous diamond necklace, then fastened it around my neck with the softest touch.
"The ring I lost yesterday wasn't even close to good enough. So I flew out last night and won this at auction. Only the best for you, babe."
I'd been so MOVED I cried. I was such a fool.
Above me, the doctor was still going, his voice cold and full of mockery.
"Everyone knows Dane and Chelsea were meant for each other. YOU'RE the one who came between them."
I couldn't tell if he was being cruel on purpose or just didn't care.
When he sprayed the medication, the pain was so sharp I couldn't hold back anymore—tears poured down my face and splattered on the floor.
Chapter 2
I walked through the door and froze.
Chelsea was in Dane's lap, taking bites of food straight from his mouth.
Something in me snapped.
I crossed the room, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and slapped her. Once. Twice. HARD.
Both sides of her face puffed up like balloons.
Good. Still not enough!
I raised my hand again—
Dane's boot slammed into my chest.
I hit the wall hard. Something sharp dug into my spine.
"ENOUGH!"
The disgust in his eyes was unmistakable.
"What the hell is WRONG with you, Sawyer?"
"Chelsea already explained—it was a DARE."
He pulled her into his arms, cradling her face, whispering soft reassurances.
I pushed myself up, every inch of my body screaming in pain.
"A dare? REALLY?"
"Fine. Then strip HER down and let ME rub wasabi all over her. Fair's fair."
Chelsea—who's always playing the tough guy—burst into tears.
"Dane, she just threatened to strip me! You're seriously not going to DO anything?"
"She's ALWAYS making up lies about us! How am I supposed to find a husband now?"
Dane brushed her tears away like she was made of porcelain.
Husband. The word made me laugh out loud.
"Why bother looking? Just move in here permanently. You two are basically married already."
Dane's face turned SCARLET.
"How many TIMES—we're FRIENDS! Keep her name out of your goddamn mouth!"
I opened my mouth to tell him what I'd learned—that he spent our WEDDING NIGHT with her.
But he was already scooping Chelsea up and heading for the door.
"Her skin's delicate. I need to get her to a doctor. "
He glared back at me one last time.
"If she scars? You're DEAD."
Chelsea shot me a smug little smile over his shoulder.
I watched him race out like the building was on fire.
Yeah. The difference between loved and unloved? Couldn't be clearer.
I grabbed my suitcase and started packing. Took me five minutes—everything I owned fit in one bag.
Meanwhile, every surface in this place was covered with stuff I'd bought for HIM. Hoping that every time he looked around, he'd think of me.
Pathetic.
We'd met when my parents ambushed me with a blind date. Some ancient guy they'd picked out.
I showed up, took one look at him—easily 300 pounds, greasy smile—and RAN.
That's when I spotted Dane leaning against his motorcycle, cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Please. I need to get out of here."
I could see my parents charging toward me.
He glanced at me. Then at them.
Smirked.
"Hop on."
He drove me halfway across the city that day.
And somewhere between the fear and the wind and the freedom, I made myself a promise.
I was going to build a home. A REAL home. One that was actually MINE.
Chapter 3
The second time I ran into Dane, my parents had me backed against the wall outside my office building, going on about how I should be grateful any man would even look at me twice.
"You think you're too good for him? Girls like you don't get to be picky."
Something in me just snapped.
I grabbed the box cutter from my bag and held it to my throat, hand steady even though my heart was racing.
"I swear, if you take one more step, I'll do it right here."
My mom's voice softened, that manipulative tone she always used.
"Honey, you know every woman ends up married with kids eventually. That's just how life works—"
That's when someone pushed through the crowd behind them.
Dane.
He pulled his wallet out, flicked a credit card at my parents' feet.
"PIN's 484848. Now back off."
Then he looked at me with this reckless grin that made my stomach flip.
"I like your attitude. Don't ever lose it."
Nobody had ever said anything like that to me before.
My whole life, I'd been too much—too loud, too difficult, too sharp around every edge.
I'd learned to keep people at a distance because it was easier than letting them close enough to hurt me.
But with Dane, everything felt different.
Our apartment back then was complete chaos—guitars leaning against every wall, keyboards buried under piles of sheet music, that violin he'd bought on impulse and taught me to play during those late nights when neither of us could sleep.
We'd stay up until 3 a.m. talking about everything and nothing, and he never once made me feel like I was too much. He actually seemed to enjoy it.
So when did it all fall apart?
Chelsea showed up at our wedding, and when Dane slipped the ring onto my finger, I felt his hand tremble. It was barely noticeable, but I caught it.
"Who was that woman?"
He'd kissed my forehead and smiled. "Nobody important. Just an old friend."
I'd never been in a relationship before, didn't know what "just friends" was supposed to look like, so I took him at his word.
Biggest mistake I ever made.
I shook myself out of the memory, tossed the divorce papers onto the table, and grabbed my suitcase. Time to end this.
The second I opened the door, my dad's fist caught me across the face and sent me stumbling backward into the wall.
"You've humiliated this ENTIRE family!"
Before I could even process what was happening, photos came raining down around me—hospital photos from that exam, my body completely exposed.
My mind went completely blank.
My mom dropped to her knees right there in the hallway, sobbing like someone had died.
"Do you have ANY idea what you've done? Your sisters will never find husbands now! How are we supposed to show our faces in this town?"
She shoved a bottle into my hands, her grip desperate and shaking.
"Just drink it. Please."
I looked down and my blood ran cold.
Paraquat. Fucking weed killer. Poison that would kill me.
The bottle slipped from my fingers and clattered down the stairs.
I looked at these two people standing in front of me. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest, then turned into tears.
"Are you actually my parents?"
They both froze.
My dad's face went from red to purple in about two seconds flat.
"YOU did this to yourself! Those photos are all over the internet! Dane's going to divorce you, and we are NOT going down with this ship!"
"Drink the poison. Or we'll hold you down and force it down your throat."
All over the internet?
The words hit me.
Dane.
The doctor had been Dane's contact. His guy.
So this was my punishment for hitting Chelsea?
My mom scrambled for the bottle with trembling hands, tears streaming down as she tried to force it back into my grip.
"It's better this way, baby. You don't understand what people will say about you. They'll tear you apart. Just end it now before it gets worse."
I said nothing. Grabbed those photos off the floor and ripped them into pieces, directly throwing them into the air.
The grief wrapped around my throat so tight.
"I'm FUCKING NOT drinking this."
"These assholes are the one who should be dead. Not me."
