2. Jules

CHAPTER 2

jules

FIVE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER

My hand went to my cheek, and I gaped at Eliana. "Why the hell did you slap me?"

I looked at my hand and inhaled sharply, then turned my palm to her to show the stripe of blood on my skin. I thought she'd be horrified, but instead she grinned and rotated her massive solitaire back to its original position, letting me know that she'd intended to inflict damage. Given how she'd been sharpening her verbal knives on me since the second we got married, maybe it wasn't all that surprising that she'd escalated to physical harm.

"Oh, don't act like such a victim . You always wear those super girly clothes and act so femme, but I know you biblically, Julio ," she snarked. "You can't pull off the damsel-in-distress routine with that thing swinging between your legs."

My cheek was throbbing, but it was her words that dug deep into my psyche. I had sacrificed a lot—my entire heart, really—to do what was right for me as it concerned my own body. Eliana knew I was sensitive about my femininity, and she took perverse pleasure in twisting the knife.

I should've left the second she started acting like I was lucky to have a "real woman" marry me. We were coming up on our five-month anniversary, and I'd spent most of that time knowing I'd made the worst mistake of my life. My reason for staying had been purely ego-driven: I hadn't wanted to admit that my family had been right. They'd expressed concern over how quickly I'd proposed to Eliana, and I'd told them to mind their own business.

The fact of the matter was that I'd still been pathetically hung up on Ginger when Eliana swept in and acted like I'd hung the moon. My family had seen through her facade, but when they came to me with their concerns, I'd clung to her like packing tape clings to itself. When they continued to express alarm, I'd doubled down by eloping only weeks after the engagement.

New Year's Day. How fucking romantic.

As someone who'd planned numerous weddings in the years before I officially joined the charitable arm of my family's business, I'd of course planned out my dream wedding, surrounded by family and friends. Eliana had convinced me that the ceremony should be just the two of us and "you can plan your little wedding party after."

I'd been so swept up in the romanticism of an elopement that I'd ignored an entire flotilla of red flags. Now I could see every last one of them—and they were on fire.

Today's argument had started when I confronted Eliana about the $50,000 that had been transferred from my account to her personal one. I might have run into this marriage with both eyes shut, but at least I'd kept our finances separate. To make the transfer—the theft—she must've gotten into either my laptop or my phone.

Going after my anatomy and deadnaming me, though, were classic Eliana moves, a serrated knife set to rip at my tenderest parts, designed to lure me into yet another screaming match. It was a trap I'd fallen into many times these last few months, and it had always ended with me apologizing.

Funny how effective that sort of thing was: Someone injures you, takes you down to the studs, and then recoils when you finally lash out… and you're the bad guy. Unfortunately for her, that slap was the final nail in the coffin. I would not be playing her game today.

As much as I hated the idea, I'd already decided to let her keep the money. Aside from the fact that she'd probably already blown half of it, money was one thing I could easily replace. I was unwilling, however, to continue this toxic back-and-forth. The theft was meant to keep me fighting her for months. She thrived on the drama, and I was done.

Honestly, fifty thousand to excise her from my life was a deal. I'd already closed my accounts, opened new ones, and created new profiles and passwords in anticipation of today's confrontation. There wasn't anything else I needed to do except get her the fuck out of my house.

So, instead of responding to her degrading words, I simply held up my hand, removed the ring that she had insisted I buy—several thousand more dollars down the drain—and set it on the table in front of her. "Here. Take this ring and the money you stole and get out. I never want to see you on a Martinez property ever again."

The one ace up my sleeve was that, while Eliana could reasonably complain that she was owed more notice, she'd rather spend the night alone in an abandoned asylum than confront my sister.

Scout was the CEO of the corporation that owned the condo community where we lived. More importantly, she'd been a WNBA point guard for a number of years. She was tall, impressively built, and had an intimidating scowl she employed with relish. Now that shame wasn't going to keep me quiet, Eliana knew she was out of time.

Snatching the ring off the table, she put her finger in my face. "You'll be hearing from my lawyers."

"Not if you hear from mine first," I spat out.

She curled her lip and turned toward the shelves in our living room, sweeping my many Marine Corps commendations and various models of the starship Enterprise off the shelf. The high-pile carpeting made the gesture anticlimactic, further fueling her anger. She screamed in frustration and stomped up to the bedroom loft. I stayed where I was, unbothered, as she opened and shut the drawers to our dresser with increasing violence.

Another frustrated scream filled the space, presumably at the realization that I'd removed my laptop, iPad, and phone from the area. The expensive Bluetooth speaker on my bedside table, however, went flying over the teak railing, breaking apart when it smashed into the wall above my head.

I stepped under the loft for safety when I heard her picking up the nightstand. That flew from the second floor with surprising speed, crashing to the ground and scattering my collection of expensive sex toys like sparkly confetti. I remained quiet, refusing to take the bait.

She went over to the office next, and soon my desk chair and a rain of paperwork joined the wreckage on the ground floor. The sound of spinning metal told me she was trying to get into my gun cabinet, but I'd never given her the combination.

Maybe I'd had some sense of self-preservation after all.

My Audrey Hepburn–inspired style didn't exactly scream badass, but I'd been a sniper in the Marine Corps, and I knew how to make Eliana stop if I wanted to. Any intervention, though, no matter how justified, would mean she'd call the cops. And given the politics of my home state—and the fact that at a whopping five seven I towered over her—I had no doubt that I'd promptly be categorized as an abusive guy in a dress.

It was better, then, to let her wear herself out.

A dull thump followed by a cry of pain interrupted my thoughts. I bit back a laugh, guessing that she'd discovered the hard way that the gun cabinet was solid as fuck. Seconds later, she came fuming down the stairs with one hand cradled against her chest and the other struggling to steer an overstuffed duffel stacked on top of a rolling bag. She nearly took a header after stumbling over my iridescent dragon dildo, which had landed on the bottom step during her tantrum. The bobble sent her luggage flying, tossing clothes everywhere.

"This is your fault," she screamed, wincing as she limped to the toppled rolling bag while trying to shove the scattered clothes into the duffel. "My lawyers are so going to fuck you over."

I remained at the other side of the room, silently taking a ready stance. I probably looked odd, given that I was wearing a summer dress and had toed out of my flats, but the visual was effective enough to stop her in her tracks.

"You keep your fucking hands off me!" she bleated, holding her overflowing bag to her chest.

"I won't lay a hand on you," I said, pausing for effect. Ditching the velvet femme voice I'd spent years perfecting, I leaned into the naturally deep tone she'd never heard before. "But if you try to slap me again, I'll put you on the ground so fast, you won't know what hit you."

Her eyes widened in fear, and she fumbled as she reached back for the doorknob.

"By the way," I said, adding extra bass to my words, " don't you ever fucking deadname me again ."

She yanked the door open and lurched out of my life. I waited until she was in her car before I stepped over to the entrance. She sped up her getaway, bottoming out on the curb as I closed the door and locked it.

I watched her peel out down our otherwise quiet street, barely avoiding the large tree that divided the entrance to the community. Once she had disappeared into the roadways of our exclusive San Antonio suburb, I let out a sigh that originated from the bottom of my soul.

I didn't know how to feel about how things had gone down. The best I could come up with was relieved, but also deeply ambivalent about the fact that I'd used the "man" voice and a vague threat of violence to quicken her departure.

Exhausted, I sat down on the soft leather couch, then slumped back against the cushiony pillows. Staring at the gnarled oak just outside the big picture window in our— my —living room, I berated myself for not listening to my family.

Not sure what to do next, I settled on watching the shadows chase the light across the wall for the balance of the afternoon. Finally, a soft knock at the door shook me out of my numb state. I stood, achy from staying in one position for so long, then crossed the den and opened the door. Despite the awful day, I had to smile. Standing there with a colorful bouquet was my fashionable, purple-haired sister-in-law, Evie.

I looked past her to see Scout grabbing something from the back seat of their truck. "What are y'all doing here?"

They lived in Austin, which was approximately an hour and a half away, assuming traffic cooperated. It rarely did.

"Hey, Jules," Evie said as I let her in. She paused, surveying the remnants of the fight before awkwardly setting the flowers on the entry table. "One of your neighbors posted in the Nextdoor app that they'd heard an argument and saw Eliana shove some luggage into her car before leaving," she said, eyeballing my now bare left hand.

The completely obvious way she did that reminded me of the last time I'd seen Ginger. Her eyes had immediately focused on my hand. I'd moved my ridiculously expensive engagement ring to my right hand, but I doubted she'd been fooled for a second.

I grabbed the naked finger, my heart aching as I recalled how Ginger and I had clicked from the second we met—I'd been entranced by her coppery coils of hair, luminous skin, and inviting lips. Watching her care for the teens at Lupe had only solidified my feelings.

Overwhelmed by swirling regrets, I tried to focus on the flowers Evie had brought me. They were gerbera daisies, my favorite.

"Are those pink glitter handcuffs?" she asked, her eyes widening as she took in more of the scene.

Grimacing, I gathered the toys and raced up the stairs to dump them on my bed.

"You gonna tell me what's going on, or do I need to give you a minute?" she called.

I looked over the balcony as she pushed a lavender curl behind her ear. I gestured helplessly at the ruined items. "Eliana took fifty thousand from my account. When I confronted her, she slapped me and then started throwing my shit around."

Evie's eyes zeroed in on my face as I carefully made my way back downstairs. "Wait. She slapped you and took how much ?"

I'd forgotten that her ex had done basically the same thing, at least with the money.

"Are you gonna try to get the money back?"

I shook my head, and her mouth dropped open. "You don't want to?—"

I stopped her with a gesture. "I just want to be done with her. I'm calling it the cost of learning a valuable—and painful—lesson."

"And what lesson was that?" Scout asked, letting herself into the condo. I think she'd meant to be snarky, but her expressive eyes darkened as she took in the damage. Scout was a rangy six two with a sharp jaw and a black-and-silver undercut. Eliana had been wise to beat a hasty retreat.

I took a breath and opened my mouth to answer her, but she cut me off as she raised a hand to my face. "What the fuck ? Is that a cut on your cheek?"

I brushed my finger along the wound and winced. "Uh, yes. Which, for an ex-marine, is pretty embarrassing. Can't believe I let her get the drop on me," I joked.

Evie's and Scout's shocked looks told me the joke hadn't quite landed. "Embarrassing?" Scout asked, her eyebrows arching sharply. "It's not embarrassing. It's illegal . She assaulted you. Tell me you're going to press charges."

I held up my hands. I never wanted anything to do with Eliana ever again.

One decent thing about the state of Texas was that an uncontested divorce usually went quickly. I doubted Eliana wanted to give me a reason to press charges, for either the assault or the cash, and I was absolutely certain my lawyer would communicate how fucked she would be if she tried to delay our divorce.

Scout drew me into a hug as I saw another vehicle pull up in front of the house. "Do you feel safe here? If not, I can move you into the downtown property."

I nodded. "I'll be fine. I just want my life back."

As I ended the hug with Scout, Evie took over with her sweet, slightly fluffy embrace. "I'm so, so sorry that I put y'all through this," I murmured into her colorful hair.

Scout let out a frustrated grunt. "What the fuck are you talking about? You're not putting us through anything. She's the one making you feel like you're some sort of burden when you absolutely are not."

The front door opened again, revealing our brother, Nick, and cousin, Roly. Clearly, a call had gone out, which meant I could expect my parents in short order.

Roly cursed as he skirted the splintered wood of the broken nightstand, though that had nothing on his reaction when he saw my cheek. "Oh, that fucking bitch did not . Where the fuck is she?" he asked, balling his hands into tight fists.

Nick began to speak but slipped on a stack of papers. He added a few more curses to the air as he stopped to adjust his prosthetic leg. Once he was situated, he put his hand on Roly's shoulder. "Don't, primo. We'll call the police, file a report, and it'll be taken care of."

Before I could tell them to back off, Scout answered for me. "Jules doesn't want to press charges."

Nick straightened his spine and leveled a glare at me. "We do not let people assault us unanswered."

"I just want out of the marriage," I repeated. I wished I could wait for my parents to arrive so I could argue with everyone all at once. "Also, please save your I told you so s." I rubbed my forehead, though there was no hope of staving off the oncoming headache. "I don't need to be reminded of how foolish I was. I was heartbroken over Ginger, and I just… I know I'll be paying for this for a long time. I can't deal with your judgment right now."

Scout, Nick, and Roly shared a look. I'd tried to keep my feelings for Ginger hidden, wanting to lick my wounds in private, but they'd sniffed out my unhappiness like a pack of overly involved, all-up-in-my-damned-business bloodhounds. It hadn't taken them long to see that my rush to start a relationship with Eliana was a poorly chosen Band-Aid for my devastated heart.

I sighed, thinking about how Ginger'd had to be strong in ways I never had. She'd lost her mother at the age of six and been taken in by an uncle who was a go-between for a massive child sex trafficking operation.

Despite years of therapy, intimacy was never going to be easy for her, and intimacy with anyone having a penis was understandably a hard no. She'd been crestfallen when she found out I was trans and didn't want bottom surgery.

We were incompatible, regardless of the mutual attraction, and I should've steered clear. I couldn't, though. She was too beautiful and brilliant.

After our make-out session went sideways, I'd—and I would admit this to no one—briefly considered the surgery. Ginger was someone I could love for the rest of my life, but I knew in my soul that surgery was not for me. I deserved somebody who could accept all of me in exactly the same way that Ginger deserved to feel safe with her partner.

Unfortunately, instead of handling my broken heart with ice cream and sad movie marathons like an adult, I'd rushed into Eliana's calculating arms, ignoring every obvious manipulation along the way.

Which was why my siblings and cousin were here. They knew how much I was hurting—and how little that hurt had to do with Eliana.

Nick opened his arms, and I walked into his powerful hug. "No judgment here, Jules. You know we just worry about you."

"I know," I replied, not entirely unappreciative.

"When did things get violent?" he asked quietly.

I lowered my forehead to his shoulder. "Just today," I whispered back, not wanting to get into it. "She'd started saying the worst transphobic shit to me a couple of months ago, but this was the first time she ever hit me."

"First and last," Roly said, his usually cheerful expression dark as a storm cloud. "That bitch comes after you again, I'm calling Anders."

"Not Anders." I stepped back from Nick's embrace to hold up my hands. "I don't need her mangled. I just need her out of my life."

"That bitch ," he grumped as he crossed the space to the open kitchen. Reaching between the wall and the fridge, Roly grabbed my broom. "Can I at least have Jake fuck with her driver's license or something?"

Jake was Evie's brother, and while I didn't have all the details, he'd been an intelligence officer with access miles above my own. He'd know exactly how to fuck with Eliana's digital footprint.

"No, cousin. Just… let sleeping dogs lie."

Even though I was serious about not letting Jake—or Anders, for fuck's sake—go after Eliana, I appreciated the sentiment.

"Fine," Roly said, far too quickly. "But she'd better fucking leave you alone, because I swear, if she so much as looks at you funny, the gloves are coming off."

Given the look on his face, something told me that she was about to be put on the no-fly list regardless of what I'd said.

"Thanks, Roly-man." I rubbed my arms to fight off a shiver as he efficiently pushed the debris into a pile by the front door. "I know y'all have my back, and I'm so sorry that I didn't listen to your warnings."

He shook his head as he set the broom aside. "Don't feel so bad, Ju-ju. We've all made unfortunate relationship and life choices. It was just your turn."

"The Martinez family curse, if ever there was one," I muttered.

Evie laughed as she hip-checked Scout. "You ain't told a lie."

Scout had almost let her ex's bullshit ruin her chances with Evie, Nick had almost lost his husband because of his own boneheaded stubbornness, and Roly had tried to run from his military PTSD by fucking every bear in Travis County. Thankfully, Heath, the man he was now married to, had seen right through that malarkey and forced him to see himself as loveable.

"Is it wrong that the fact that you all basically fell ass-backward into your relationships—despite your best efforts to the contrary—kinda gives me hope?" I asked.

"Shut up," Nick groused as he joined the others in surrounding me in a messy group hug. The foot-plus size differences made it awkward, but I wouldn't have it any other way. As I pulled back to wipe away a few grateful tears, my parents poked their heads around my front door. Laughing, we went in for an even more awkward family hug. Even after I repeated my story, everyone managed to avoid telling me just how stupid I'd been.

The entire thing had been awful, but at least I had my family.