#Chapter 85 – Fallout

There is a long moment where neither of us move. And then Victor groans – not the kind of groan he made just a few minutes ago, but the sound of a very tired man. He rolls back away from me, moving his hand from my hip.

Suddenly cold and awkward without the solid warmth of him behind me, I sit up and reach for my tshirt, which lays crumpled a foot away. As I do this, Victor pulls up his pants and re-buckles his belt, not looking at me. I pull the shirt over my head.

Then, we face each other, silent, sitting on my kitchen floor, me with my feet curled beneath me, him with his back against the cabinet, his legs bent in front of him and arms resting slack on top of his knees.

I don’t say a word, but stare at him, trying to gauge his emotions. Victor’s face is complex as he looks back at me. He runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Evelyn,” he says, his voice measured. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head.

Victor frowns at me. “What?”

“Don’t talk about it like it’s something you did to me, Victor,” I say, angry. “It’s something that happened to both of us. We were both there! We did it.”

“Still,” he says. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Neither should I,” I say, shrugging, looking down at the floor. Despite that truth, I can’t bring myself to apologize.

“It was a…strange night,” he says, and I glance at him again. He’s looking off into the living room, thinking. “I had had a lot of whiskey tonight, and…it was The Hunt, you know.” He lets his voice drift off here.

I do know. Joyce and I had our own Hunt when we were engaged, but I refused him that night, wanting to wait for wedding night. A mistake, in retrospect. Still, I know what Victor means.

“Don’t do that,” I say, my voice hard. “Don’t try to blame whatever this is,” I gesture at the space between us, “on whatever drugs you took tonight off of some girl’s lips.”

He frowns at me, narrowing his eyes. “But that’s all it was. Without all the whiskey, the hallucinogens –“

“Victor,” I say, silencing him. “Don’t lie to me. This thing between us?” I pause, and the look he gives me lets me know he knows exactly what I’m talking about. “It has been brewing for weeks, months.”

think, but I’m not

His hands tighten

laugh at him, baldly, and he whips his

his face angry

my kitchen, myself. My eyes are filled with my anger but that emotion hides a deeper hurt. “You were on your Hunt

don’t know, Evelyn,” Victor says, his voice rising to a frustrated yell. I shush him then, glaring at him and then up the stairs where my boys are asleep. He snaps his mouth shut and nods once, silently agreeing to

that he wasn’t confused at all. “What’s happening, Victor?” I whisper, feeling

mean?” He asks, looking me up and

my head again, growing firmer in my intentions. “I can’t

at me. “Can’t do

hands to my sides, encompassing everything – everything we feel, everything we’ve experienced, all

was one

I meet his eyes, knowing that

to normal –

as I voice my thoughts aloud. He

little pet…” I shake my head. “And whenever you want me, I’m going to be here, wanting you.” I feel my eyes fill with

doesn’t have to be like that, Evelyn,”

marry her?” I ask, lifting my chin to meet

nothing, just returns my

I whisper as the tears slip

his hands, knowing that I’m

struggling to my feet. “I’ll take the boys, we’ll move somewhere else

no,” he says, scrambling to stand as well. “You can’t go – you can’t

his hands off me as he tries to take my hands, grab my arms. “No, Victor. We can’t live like this. We tried, but Amelia…god, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Amelia was right.

he growls, firm, putting his hands in his pockets as

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