~~PEYTON~~
The next few minutes? Should I call it a crossfire or a full-blown verbal assault? Odin's voice rises with each word. He doesn't need to say more; the underwear in his hand screams volumes.
Accusations fly, assumptions that are so far off the mark they are almost laughable if they didn't cut so deep.
There's no winning this. Not when he's holding the evidence. He storms around the entryway, gesturing wildly, while I stand frozen, feeling the blood drain from my face. Every glance he shoots me is like a punch. Every word is like a slap.
And you know the funny thing about all of this is that he's furious, beyond furious, and it's not just because of a stupid, misplaced piece of underwear. It's his assumptions; it's like he's trying to piece together a killer puzzle. A puzzle t
