Stacy — I Fought For Us 1
When he entered the bedroom, I was there standing in front of the bed, waiting for him. He didn't so much as glance at me.
"Can we talk?" I ventured when he started hastily pulling open closet doors and drawers.
"You wanted me to leave. I think it's best that I do just that," he said, pulling out his suitcase and slamming it onto the bed.
Shallow breaths. Racing heartbeat. A bead of sweat running down my back. Did he have me panicking? Fucking nothing for the near dead men's blood on my hands, but he pulled out a suitcase and now I went ballistic? It was fucking bullshit. I watched him go up and down, tossing clothes into the suitcase in a frenzy. Still not so much as a glance at me.
