Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL]-Chapter 30: She’s good company.

Chapter 30: Chapter 30: She’s good company.
He slammed his fist lightly on the table.
"No. No, I’m not signing this. You’re trying to erase me!"
"Richard," she exhaled, "sign the papers. Then fight for custody in court. I’m not stopping you."
He glared at her, breathing hard — angry, cornered, insulted.
But Lexi didn’t flinch.
She wasn’t scared of him anymore or afraid to see him leave.
Richard’s signature was messy, angry, carved into the paper like he wanted the ink to bleed.
As soon as his pen left the page, he slammed it down, grabbed his coat, and pointed a shaking finger at Lexi.
"You’ll regret this," he spat. "You’re the one who tore this family apart."
He didn’t wait for a response.
The door slammed so violently that the frame rattled.
And then—
Silence.
The kind of silence that settles after a natural disaster, when the dust hasn’t yet made up its mind whether to fall or stay suspended in the air.
Lexi stood there for a moment, staring at the door he’d disappeared through, her breath held tight in her chest.
Then her knees gave out.
She sank onto the couch, the divorce papers crumpling beneath her fingers.
Everything she had been holding in, every fear, every exhaustion, every quiet heartbreak burst out all at once.
Her tears came in waves.
She had tried.
God, she had really tried.
She’d stayed through the gambling, the lies, the manipulation, the debt.
She’d stayed when he stopped being a partner and became an anchor pulling her under.
She’d stayed for the kids.
For the home.
For the idea of a family she worked herself raw to maintain.
She had helped so many women navigate divorce that she thought she understood it.
But going through it herself?
It wasn’t just painful.
It was humiliating in a way she didn’t know how to articulate.
Her hands shook as she grabbed her phone.
She typed slowly, deliberately, wiping her face between words.
[Your father and I are no longer together. The papers have been signed. Lacey didn’t exactly take it too well, she’s over at Ashley’s for now.]
She hit send before she could think too much about it.
Lance’s reply came almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for something, anything, from home.
[Alright mum, I got it. I will tell Lev. Need me to come over? We can share a beer..]
A watery laugh escaped her.
Her son—her baby—was old enough now to sit at a bar with her and talk about life like two adults.
She swallowed the ache in her throat and typed back:
[Mum’s fine. Take care and don’t forget to eat]
She placed the phone on the coffee table, leaned back, and closed her eyes.
For the first time in years, the house didn’t feel heavy because of Richard.
It felt heavy because he was gone.
And somehow...
that was a different kind of relief.
Meanwhile.
Lacey curled into the corner of Ashley’s bed, knees to her chest, face blotchy and damp.
She hadn’t stopped crying since she got through the door.
Not crying loudly or dramatically.
Just the quiet, tight-throated kind that came from deep, heavy guilt.
"I should’ve noticed," she whispered, voice small. "I should’ve... known something was wrong. I didn’t know. I thought everything was okay, Ash. I thought they were fine."
Ashley sat beside her, slow and soft, like she always was.
A willow tree in human form. Gentle, grounding, bending with whatever storm someone brought to her.
She didn’t talk immediately. She just rubbed Lacey’s back in slow circles, letting her breathe.
"You’re fifteen.." Ashley murmured eventually. "You’re not supposed to be checking your parents for cracks. You didn’t do anything wrong."
Lacey shook her head quickly, tears spilling again.
"But I live there. I should’ve seen something. I should’ve... asked? Or—or done something."
Ashley wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a side hug, tucking Lacey’s head under her chin.
"Hey. Listen to me."
Her tone stayed gentle, but firm enough to cut through the panic spiraling in Lacey’s chest.
"You didn’t break them. You didn’t cause it. And you couldn’t have stopped it."
Lacey sniffed hard, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
"But they were yelling so loud, Ash..."
"I know." Ashley pressed her cheek lightly against Lacey’s hair. "Anyone would be scared, hearing that."
Lacey’s lip trembled.
"It’s so stupid... I’m not even sad that they divorced. I’m just... sad that it happened at all, y’know? Like... why did it have to get that bad?"
Ashley didn’t offer empty answers.
She didn’t pretend to know why grown-ups destroy things they once swore to protect.
She just held Lacey closer.
"You’re allowed to feel everything you’re feeling. Even if it doesn’t make perfect sense."
Lacey finally let out a shaky breath, the first one that didn’t sound like it hurt.
Ashley reached over and grabbed a tissue box, holding it out.
Lacey laughed weakly at herself and blew her nose.
"You can stay here the whole weekend if you want.." Ashley said. "My parents won’t mind. And you can come with me to school tomorrow."
Lacey nodded slowly.
"Thanks... Ash."
"Always."
Ashley smiled patting her back gently.
And for the first time since she’d run out of the house, Lacey felt something that wasn’t guilt or fear.
She felt safe.
Lance rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion weighing down every muscle. He balanced the phone on his chest and let it ring.
He needed to check on Lacey, just to make sure she had gotten to Ashley’s.
Once.
Twice.
Three times—
Then a soft click.
"Hello?"
But it wasn’t Lacey.
It was Ashley, voice low, gentle, almost whispering so as not to wake someone beside her.
"Hey, Lance. It’s Ashley."
He blinked.
"Oh—hey. Is Lacey there? Did she get to your place okay?"
"She did." A rustle of blankets. "She fell asleep about twenty minutes ago. She was... crying for a long time."
Lance closed his eyes, guilt sinking like an anchor in his stomach.
Of course she cried.
She was fifteen.
She shouldn’t have had to hear their parents tearing each other apart.
"Right. Uh... sorry," he murmured. "For the inconvenience. Our family’s—kinda going through it right now."
Ashley let out a soft breath, the kind people make when they’re smiling sympathetically.
"It’s not inconvenient," she said. "Really. I like having her here. Lacey’s...good company."