𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | [𝟏𝟖+]

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨.

For the rest of the week no one mentioned my bruise. Not even Leo but I could tell he was angry with me because he wouldn't speak to me. I'd ask a question and he'd give me a short answer, or even when we went to bed he wouldn't sleep on my stomach like he usually does. Which I'm completely fine with because I like having my space when I sleep but it's just a tad bit awkward.

I understand he's worried and he wants me to tell him what really happened but I just can't. I haven't spoken to Stephen since the beach. If he had something to ask me or I needed him to know something, it would go through Greyson.

Completely childish? I know, but I don't plan on accepting his apology any time soon. What he did was fucked up. And the bruise is still there and is a fucking pain in the ass.

But anyway, it's Friday now. Meaning it's the night before the wedding. Nothing's really happened this week besides planning for the wedding. I still haven't really spoken with Aurora either. I'm kind of over it at this point but she has to come to me.

I wake up this morning to Leo lightly rubbing my back. It's a sweet gesture being's though I've complained about it all week. Last night was pretty awkward. There was clear tension between us during dinner, and everyone saw it. Even the kids who asked "are you and uncle Leo fighting?" I really didn't know what to say so I just said no and changed the subject.

I sigh in content when I feel him press a kiss between my shoulder blades. It felt nice and a kiss there could lead to sex... which I haven't had in a while. I roll over on to my back and smile at him. He smiles back as he rests his head on his hand. He's always usually up way before I am.

"Is your back okay?" he asks. The only reason he's asking is to get the answer he's been trying to pull out of me with the stupid silent treatment. I hesitate before I open my mouth.

I guess we're having the talk huh?

"Stephen," I mumble and he looks at me confused. I hesitate again as I fidget with my fingers. "We got into a heated argument, he said some things, I said some things, he was super fucking drunk and pushed me," I quickly say as I watch his body tense. His face grows cold as he looks at me.

"He put his hands on you after he gave your father shit about slapping you?" he asks as he scoffs. "Like father, like son."

Okay, hold on.

"Look, I understand he touched me. He should've never pushed me. But that's what we've always done. Whenever we got into an argument my father would always tell us to "solve it in the gym." We always solved our problems with hitting each other instead of communication. He's nothing like my father," I defend.