Free Rhapsody (The Bellator Saga Book 5) by Cecilia London

go!”
    “Not until you calm down. You can rage and scream and attack me all you want, but you will never make me believe that you hate me.”
    If he was so sure of himself, she could try a little harder. She twisted her wrists but he held firm.             
    “Stop,” he said. “You want to hurt me or hurt yourself and I’m not going to let it happen.” Jack pulled her toward him so she was forced to look him in the eyes. “You can’t run away and you can’t solve your problems with violence. You’re going to have to face this whether you like it or not.”
    She tried to twist herself away from him as he pinned her arms to her sides again, pushing them behind her back. “Please let me go.” A familiar adrenaline fueled panic began to fill her chest. “Please.”
    “No,” Jack said. “You’re going to listen, my dear wife. You don’t get to speak that way to me and then scamper off. You don’t get to make the rules anymore. I make the rules. You hear me?”
    She never got to make the rules. She was a pawn in someone else’s game. And now she was trapped in his, getting closer to that bottomless depression she couldn’t quite control, no matter how hard she tried.
    Fight it. She had to fight it. Fight the darkness, fight the despair, fight the memories. Would he let her go if she went limp? It didn’t matter. She had to get away. “Don’t hurt me,” she begged, trying to retreat to the safe place inside her mind. The place where nothing hurt. “Please let me go.”
    Something in her expression must have registered, because whatever trance he was in vanished. Jack released her wrists, staring down at his hands and then back at her. “Caroline, I’m sorry,” he said, looking horrified with himself.
    She hunched over, rubbing her arms, breathing hard. If he apologized one more fucking time she really was going to punch him in the jaw. She was good at that. “Go fuck yourself,” she snarled. “Fucking control freak.”
    He wiped at his lip, wincing. “You don’t hate me,” he whispered, staring at the blood on his fingers. “You don’t.”
    “I do. With good reason.”
    “Sweetheart-”
    “Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. This isn’t working. I need my own room. I want to be as far away from you as possible. So figure it out. Until you do, I want to be left alone.” She went into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Caroline sat up on the bed, unable to fall asleep. She could do something constructive with her time. Like practice her posture, count the holes in the ceiling tile, ignore all those reminders of her that Jack had sprinkled around the room. Do her best to forget all the horrible things she’d just said and done to him. She’d heard the exterior door slam after their argument. Her husband hadn’t returned.
    It was late afternoon and she was attempting to nap. She remained completely exhausted and emotionally drained. How many days had passed since she’d been discharged from the hospital? She couldn’t remember. Natalie had warned her that she’d be fatigued as her body gradually recovered from the trauma of the blast. But when was she never not tired?
    She’d been fortunate not to have a more serious brain injury, not to have been hit by more shrapnel, not to have bled out on the bumpy, frantic ride back to the base. Caroline knew that she was, yet again, lucky to be alive. Maybe that guardian angel was still on her shoulder. Or maybe karma was a fucking asshole.
    She lay back on the pillow. The light in the corner was on, even though it was a sunny day. The dim glow gave her comfort. Caroline saw the box of Gabe’s possessions in the corner. She hadn’t noticed it before. Given that she was staying in the bedroom and Jack was sleeping on the couch, he’d probably put it in with her so he wouldn’t have to look at it.
    Caroline had never bothered going through Gabe’s things after she packed them up. Hadn’t wanted to see or