Living the Life of Riley | ✔

Chapter Thirty One

Guilt coursed through me. The kitchen had been a mess. However, I didn't remember exactly what I'd done. The last thing I remembered was white-hot rage taking over my body, controlling me. The next time I actually saw anything was in the morning when I woke up in Tristan's bed.

The side where he'd slept was unmade, but he was gone. I guessed he'd left, had things to do. I pushed myself off, waddled to the toilet and then made my way downstairs to find Rose. On the way, that had been when I saw the kitchen. Or at least, what was left of it. The counters had been trashed, cracks showing in each of them. There was splintered wood all over the place, and glass stained the floor. Nothing had survived my rage – all of the pretty ornaments that had sat on the table top were lying on the floor broken, and the window had a slight crack in it. The only things that seemed untouched were the cupboard doors. I didn't dare look inside them. I was afraid of what I'd see.

It had taken me about half an hour to hunt down Rose, and I'd apologised about one hundred times before she stopped me, telling me that the kitchen had probably seen worse. Although, she'd told me that she certainly wouldn't want to be on my bad side. I still felt guilty, so I had started to clean up the kitchen, which is where Beau found me, on my hands and knees.

"Is that safe? Or even comfortable?" He asked, worry in voice. I brushed him off.

"It feels as if I'm about to faceplant at any moment but I can't have Rose cleaning it up." I said, using the bright yellow dustpan and brush. In hindsight, it probably would have been better to use a broom but I hadn't been thinking clearly. I'd just felt really bad.

"Why not? When everyone else trashed the kitchen, she cleaned it up." Beau said, and I glared at him.

"Yes, but I'm not an inconsiderate twat." He flinched and I apologised. He said nothing but I felt warmth come off him as he bent down and helped me pick up the glass.

"I'm just worried about you. Last night was..."

"Scary?" He shook his head.

"More like petrifying. You've kept that side hidden well." Beau gave me a small smile, as he carefully cupped a handful of glass and placed it in the plastic bag. "I think even Kelly is a little frightened of you."

"Really?"

"Well, you were basically strangling him to death." I stopped for a moment, contemplating that fact. I may have had my hand on his throat (or had I?) but there was no intention to harm him. I just wanted some facts. Maybe I needed some anger management...

"To be honest, I can't really remember last night very well. I just remember seeing that wall and..." I stopped, taking in a deep breath, the fire threatening to re-surface, "and I guess I lost it."

"We were all scared for the baby. But Mason and that girl stopped us from restraining you."

"Yeah..." My cheeks tingled a little. "There have been a few incidents."

While we cleaned, I told Beau some of the stories. Not all of them were about me, thankfully. I included a couple about Mason and then some about Vincent. There weren't any about Jo. She was more of the cold shoulder person. The girl could win a trophy for the longest grudge held. To this day, she still gave Tom Michaels the silent treatment for standing her up. And that had apparently happened when she was like twelve. For five years, she'd held a grudge over being stood up. That took a lot of dedication. To me, it just sounded like a lot of work.

Eventually though, we swept up all the glass, and placed it in a black bin bag, which we'd lined with newspapers. There was nothing we could do for the cracked counters and Beau had forced me to leave the splinters alone. He said that he'd get one of the guys to clear it up.