All or Nothing by Dee Tenorio

saying about anything else. “Come with me to Massachusetts” or “I love you” might have been wise. No, his inherent jealousy of her choosing Kyle over him for years reared its ugly head and made him question the gift he’d been given.
    She’d flinched like she’d been slapped. Then her dark eyes turned hard, angry. “In my mind,” she’d said, making sure every word would stab and rip him, her voice steady and clear. “It was Kyle.”
    She rolled away, adjusting her clothes back in place. She refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge his attempts at apology. He didn’t blame her. His attempts then were no better than they were now. In fact, they were probably worse.
    “What if you’re pregnant?” he’d asked, finally getting her attention.
    “Then I’ll get rid of it,” she’d replied, cold as a snake. That was the only thing he’d ever disliked about her. No one said things they should regret like Belinda did. She went right for a guy’s balls and smiled while she did it. “Go away, College Boy. Go to your smart school and your perfect, brilliant coeds. You got what you wanted.”
    “Are you going to tell me if you are?” he’d asked, ignoring her venom.
    But he hadn’t been able to ignore it all. She’d saved one spiteful word for last. “No.”
    That word haunted him for years. Hell, it haunted him now. Made him break out in a sweat. Made him want to hate her as much as he loved her. But he never asked and she never said. Not when he came back from school. Not when Kyle got them reluctantly speaking again. Never, not once in twelve years had he ever asked. And she never told.
    He arrived on his doorstep and found a crushed white box.
    He stopped dead, but the pup sniffed and whined at it, shuffling it with his paw.
    Anger flickered in Lucas’s mind. It felt like fire, a small flame that licked at the back of his brain. Crouching slowly, he lifted the lid and found what he expected. Pieces of lace…shredded. Sliced. Threads everywhere. So was the stain of coffee…all over the pieces. That’s when the flame turned into a conflagration.
    His fists tightened around the leash. His jaw began to ache from pressure. His blood burned like acid as it raced past his temples.
    He’d had it. Enough. Absolutely enough.
    No more begging. No more asking permission. No more apologizing.
    The pup started to whine again.
    “Come on, dog.” Lucas tugged the leash and started down the stairs again. The dog didn’t want to come. He probably thought his master was in the mood to kill someone.
    He was right.
     
     
    Only decent people feel guilty, Belinda told herself while she tried to drown in her shower. Face to the hard, hot spray, she hoped the stinging impact would wash the sense of guilt away. The last thing anyone had called her for the past decade was decent . She thrived on being rude, heartless and flat-out bitchy when the occasion called for it. The tugs of conscience were harder to feel that way. Usually. But now, because of a box of scraps, the tugs of guilt were feeling more like whips.
    It’s for his own good.
    He’d move on. Find someone who would love him like he deserved. Love him like he needed. Someone at least slightly less wrecked than herself.
    But being right and being guilt-free were apparently not mutually exclusive.
    Angry, she turned off the water…and heard so loud a clank Michigan could have landed outside. She frowned at the handle, but then there was another crunching clank. Rising on her toes, she tried to look out the small window at the top of the stall, but could only see a piece of metal flying. What the hell was going on out there?
    Then she heard the bark.
    Eyes wide, she lowered herself from the window. Lucas. In her yard. While she was naked.
    That sprang her into action more than anything, despite the fact that he was hucking around heavy metal like it was a discus tournament. She threw back the curtain, grabbing the towel waiting there on her way out. Not