The Bad Boy Next Door

When Frank woke a few hours later, Jo's side of the bed was already cold. If it wasn't for the scent of her perfume still lingering on the sheets, he'd wonder if it had been real or a dream. He knew she'd had to leave in order to keep her husband from catching her gone, but it still hurt to wake up alone after sharing a moment that made him feel so close to her. He got out of bed and pulled on his jeans, walking into the kitchen to look out the window. Their curtains were closed so he couldn't see outside the house, but he could see Pete's car in the driveway.

The thought of Pete in there with Jo made Frank angry. Pete didn't deserve Jo. She was a wonderful woman, with such passion inside of her, and Pete didn't even know how to bring it out. He thought about the conversation he'd had with her earlier about Pete trying to push her into things she wasn't in the mood for and felt filled with rage. That git who treated her like that got to be her husband, while Frank who'd do anything to make her happy got only a cold, empty bed.

Frank picked a glass up from beside the sink and threw it at the wall, enjoying just that small act of destruction. He'd had a reputation once for being the kind you didn't mess with, and although the years had tamed him, the fighter inside him still rebelled at being forced to be kept subdued. He wanted to kill Pete, to tear the man limb from limb, and then take Jo to a place where nothing could ever hurt her again. But he couldn't. He had to settle for being the second man in her life, the one she only loved in the shadows.

Frank went to clean up the mess he'd made, not even caring when he sliced his finger on a shard of broken glass. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the emotional kind. He knew Jo would never truly be his, and the thought ate him up inside. Despite her obvious misery in her marriage, Jo didn't want to leave it. She'd told Frank that Pete was her husband, and she wasn't prepared to walk away completely from that commitment.

"If only Jamia had been that loyal," Frank muttered to himself, bringing the bits of broken glass to the trashcan. He froze, a realization coming to him. He didn't want Jamia anymore. As much as an emotional roller coaster his relationship with Jo was turning out to be, he wouldn't trade it for anything, even his ex-wife. Jamia had been his everything, his dark princess, and now, she'd been pushed out of his heart by someone her opposite in almost every way.

"Oh Jo," Frank said aloud. "What have you done to me?"