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Shame on me for trusting Bree, but shame on her for pretending to extend an olive branch that was actually poison ivy.
“I should’ve trusted my gut when it came to that girl,” I sigh.
“Funny that you thought you could believe a word out of Bree’s mouth,” his sinful lips quirks into a mocking smirk, “when she clearly doesn’t like you.”
I grab his wrists and push him back. “I had no reason not to. Why would she lie about this? It’s ridiculous.”
He laughs and I’m suddenly a wounded animal desperate to lash out. What a dick. I don’t have to stand here and take this from him. I step away, ready to take off.
“Besides the obvious?”
“She thinks it’s funny? Ha. Ha. I’m laughing real hard over here.” God, I want to punch that girl, but having a stable job is more important than revenge.
“Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not playing anything.”
His stare is like a dagger. “She’s jealous of you, Ardie. She’s worried you’re going to steal Cooper away.”
Oh, here we go again. “I’m not interested in Cooper.”
His gaze flicks to my lips and back to my eyes. “Are you sure about that?”
“Very.”
I turn and march back toward the bike rack a few blocks over, but of course he follows. My stupid tears are two seconds from falling and I can’t hold them back anymore. Salty wetness streaks down my cheeks but I don’t let that stop me. Walking past darkened storefronts, I’m soon back at the rack and unlocking the bike. I probably should’ve worn a helmet tonight but I didn’t because I didn’t want to ruin my hair. I can see now that wasn’t the smartest decision, but neither was trusting Bree. In fact, this whole summer feels like one bad decision. Maybe I should call it quits early and go back to the group home. God, what a bleak thought. I’d vowed never to return there.
The second I climb onto the bike, Ethan’s rough hands haul me right back off.
“Let me go!” I knew he was following me, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement. Thank God I’m away from the club and that line of people with their camera phones and judgment.
“Riding a bike out here at night? You’re more stupid than I thought.”
“Not all of us have Daddy’s car to drive around,” I snap back. His tricked-out Land Rover is around here somewhere, I’m sure.
“One, that chip on your shoulder isn’t doing you any favors. And two, even if you did have a car, you don’t have a driver’s license. I’ll give you a ride home.”
My face goes hot all over again because that fact about myself means he really has been checking up on me.
Ethan knows.
He knows about the foster homes and the poverty and the dead drug addict mother and the unknown father who never even made it onto the birth certificate, let alone into my life. Which also means he knows that by society’s standards, I’m well beneath him. Him, and everyone in his social circles. Him and his family. Him and his stupid fuckboy brother.
And I hate them for it. And I also hate myself for even thinking this way, for even caring what someone like Ethan King thinks of me. Because logically, I understand that my upbringing isn’t my fault. I was born into terrible circumstances, and they were born with silver spoons in their mouths. It doesn’t actually mean my worth as a human is less than theirs. And it doesn’t mean I won’t make something of myself in the future, or that they won’t screw up their pedigree lives. But try telling that to a girl who has been let down and abandoned by every single person? It’s one thing to understand a concept logically, but it’s another thing entirely to actually believe it deep down.
Without a bike, I don’t have a way to get home, and I’m not in the mood for walking, so I wipe away my tears and follow Ethan to his black Land Rover. He pops the hatch, tossing the bike inside, then slams it shut with a loud thud.
“Please don’t cry,” he grumbles. “I can’t deal with it.”
I don’t even dignify that with a response.
“You are forbidden from going out on that bike at night again. Do you hear me?”
I walk around to the side of the SUV and he follows. I didn’t ask for this fatherly protective attitude. Nor do I need him. I can take care of myself. And I’m definitely riding that bike and crying whenever I damn well please.
“Yes, Dad,” I toss over my shoulder.
Big mistake.
