TJ.
She drew in quick, choppy breaths, wounded so deeply by that poison-tipped barb. He started toward her, but she held up a staying hand.
"Maybe you should just get to that shitty job of yours before we do any more damage to each other." Her voice pain-hushed, she fixed her gaze on her still-bare feet.
"Kerris, I-"
"I'll see you tonight." She turned and shuffled toward the kitchen.
She went back to the sink, biting her lip when she heard him finally leave, the door closing in a controlled whisper signaling his careful exit. She tried to ignore the pain that burned like a heated stone in her belly, but she couldn't. She doubled over the sink. How could he have even considered throwing TJ in her face? She knew she'd hurt him, but she couldn't ever imagine using any of the pains he had shared with her against him, to wound him in an argument.
The air around her reeked of his accusations, polluted by his mistrust. She felt like he had chopped several inches off her, diminished her and smudged her. She longed for Walsh to clean her up again as he had before in a night-darkened gazebo, but that would never happen. She had made her choice, and she would have to live with it.