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 hangman

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[hymen]

[ not hearing from jake for a week makes embry forget about his rash offer, even if he meant it in the moment. he’s more concerned with anora anyway, the person he actually wronged, now that he’s discovered that jake isn’t the husband, nor did anora bother confiding in him about what happened. but — that doesn’t mean there’s nothing between them. how many times has embry hid his most painful wounds from ash, after all?

it happens at breakfast, which embry attends on a regular basis to mingle and swan about. a too-familiar clap on his shoulder has him turning to find jake gleaming and damp, his tell-tale smile chiseled onto his face. a pit opens in his stomach, only because he’s not mentally prepared to participate in brutal honesty today or any other day, and yet he’s the one that told jake to come find him if he wanted the truth, a classic case of his stupidity triumphing over all reasonable thought.

he doesn’t have much longer than that to commiserate over his past self making poor decisions, because when he blinks next jake’s fist slams into his face, embry barely turning in time to keep his nose from being broken (again), his teeth digging into the inside of his cheek from the impact. ]

What the fuck, Jake?

[ he rears back in an instant, blood staining his teeth and trickling from the corner of his mouth as anger ignites like flint against steel. ash is the thinker, the one calm and collected through every force that rips through his life, whether it’s bombs or a broken heart. embry is decidedly the opposite: brash, reckless, always looking for the nearest hail of gunfire to step in front of. today, that happens to be jake seresin, and everything in him itches to hit back.

he doesn’t, anora’s face flashing before his eyes, her bruised throat, his blood strewn over her ruined dress. from the table, he snatches a flute of champagne and downs it in one swallow, zesty bubbles mixing with the taste of blood, then sets it down to grab another, this one held out to jake. ]

You want to talk? [ his eyes glitter, a winter sky caught in crystal. his voice sounds almost eager, an edge of desperation running through his words. ] Or do you want to hit me again?