Wrecking My Ex-husband
Kimberly opened the door to her apartment with a lazy yawn, standing there in nothing but an oversized shirt, scrolling on her phone until she looked up and froze.
“Jeremiah?”
He looked like hell.
One eye was swollen shut, dried blood crusted at the corner of his lip, his shirt half-buttoned and stained with something dark, maybe blood, maybe alcohol. He could barely stand without swaying, like the hallway itself might tip him over.
“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?” she gasped, rushing toward him. “Are you...what...did someone do this to you? Who?!”
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