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“I should ask you the same thing.”
I chuckled. “Are you scrolling the gossip sites?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed. “Micah heard about your fight from a kid in his class and texted me.”
Fuck. I tried my best to be a good role-model to my ten-year-old nephew and didn’t want him to think fighting was the way to deal with his problems.
“I’ll have a talk with him when I get back to LA.”
“I’m not worried about that, but I am worried about you. Why the hell did you hit Corey?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
“He’s a dick. We all know that, but you can’t risk your career because of him. You need to let it go. I have.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “He fucking abandoned you and left you with a kid to raise alone. How do you not hate him as much as I do?”
“Who said I didn’t?”
“You just told me to let it go—”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate him. I think a part of me always will since he chooses not to have a relationship with his son. But I don’t want to give him the power to hurt my family any more than he already has.”
I rubbed my forehead. “You’re right. I’m sorry if having to hear about this upset you.”
She snickered. “Are you kidding? As much as I don’t think you should have done it, I sort of wish I was there to have witnessed you punching the hell out of him.”
“It felt pretty damn good,” I admitted.
“Well, take some time to let this blow over. I’m sure the paparazzi will have someone else to obsess over soon enough.”
“That’s the plan. I love you. Hug Micah for me.”
“I will. By the way, where the heck are you?”
I glanced down at the water where there were only a few surfers out. “I’m in Santa Barbara.”
“Sounds nice. Have fun, but not too much. I love you, and I’ll see you soon.”
“See ya.”
Later that afternoon, I went for a jog on the beach. Since it was mid-January, there weren’t too many people out, which worked for me.
It was chilly when I got outside, but I’d quickly warmed up once I started running. About a half a mile into my run, I spotted a woman with a camera pointed in my direction.
“You vultures will travel anywhere to get a picture, won’t you?” I asked her as I passed by.
Her head snapped up and her eyes widened when they met mine. “Excuse me?”
“Aren’t there enough people to harass in LA without bothering someone a hundred miles away?” I continued jogging down the shore.
When I returned about forty minutes later, I saw the same woman sitting in the sand, staring at the water. She didn’t look as though she was waiting for me to come back, and as I got closer, I saw her shoulders shake, and she wiped her hands under her eyes.
Damn it. Had I made her cry? I may have been an ass to people who deserved it, but I’d spent years drying the tears of my mother and sister after the men in their lives had screwed them over. I never wanted to be the person to upset an innocent woman.
“Hey,” I said when I reached her. “Are you okay?”
She looked up, and her chin quivered. “I’m fine.”
