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He studies the ground for a beat before turning his sorrowful gaze toward mine. “I thought we had something here.”
You thought you found a good submissive.
“People in love listen to each other, Bobby. They don’t try to control the narrative, and they certainly don’t try to control the other person. What we had wasn’t love.”
He tips his chin up and looks toward the heavens, not so much in aLord give me strength waybut more likeI messed up how can I correct thisway. When his gaze returns to mine, his voice is full of regret. “I should apologize.”
“Can we just move forward? You’ll always be my friend., but friendship is all I can offer.”
Hurt or maybe shame coats his eyes, but then his chin juts as his body straightens. “The guy used you. He got what he wanted and took off.”
I hate that he knows we got caught. Dad must’ve told him. My personal life isn’t his concern. I may have offered an olive branch, but I didn’t offer the entire tree. Why can’t he accept the fact we’re over and move on?
“Dalton took off because he was forced to.”
“I can’t believe you gave in to his will.”
I gave in to his will a long time before now, but I’m not going to get into that. That’s not Bobby’s business. I don’t justify that remark with an answer and glare instead.
“Has he even called?”
My bravado breaks into tiny shards that stab my heart—reality stings.
“I didn’t think so,” he scoffs. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Bobby shoulders past me, leaving me alone.
“No, but I’m going to try,” I say to no one in particular. A plan formulates, one I’ve thought about for a while but never dared to follow through until now. I hop in my car and take off toward Nicole’s house. I need the internet to implement my plan. I let the conversation with Bobby go. There isn’t anything else to say to him, but I’m glad we talked. It was long overdue, just like taking control of my life.
And that starts now.
Chapter Forty-Three
DALTON
“North Magnolia Avenue,”the Uber driver announces my destination.
My gaze wanders to the stone and stucco ranch-style home. I mumble, “Thanks,” but I’m not quite sure the driver heard it over the butterflies scraping and clawing like wild beasts in my stomach. I climb out of the woman’s Mini Cooper, half tempted to beg her to wait for the sole purpose of being a witness to my slaying. I have no idea what kind of reception I’ll receive from Mr. Greenburg.
I hitch my duffle bag higher on my shoulder and press forward. My sixth-grade teacher always used to say, “There’s no better time than the present.” He was referring to our homework, but it works in this case too. I take a calming breath and ring the doorbell, my mind racing with various scenarios: Cassie angry at the sight of me, Cassie happy to see me—this was my favorite one, Cassie reluctant to see me, and then the worst one—
“You have some nerve showing up here.”
Of course, it would be the worst scenario—Mr. Greenburg peering down his nose at me.He looks about as impressed as a scout watching a supposed upcoming pitcher hurl mediocre sixty-five mile-per-hour fastballs. Bellow barks excitedly at my feet, wagging his tail. At least someone is happy to see me.
My mouth suddenly feels dry, but I stand my ground. “Sir, I owe you an apology.”
Mr. Greenburg eyes me for a moment as Bellow weaves between my legs, continuing his happy barks. Coach shifts his gaze to the dog and sighs. When he steps back to let me in, I resist the urge to punch the air and yell halle-fucking-lujah. But this invite into his home is a significant step. I wasn’t sure he’d let me through the door.
Coach motions toward the kitchen. “You want anything to drink?”
“No, I’m good,” I say, even though my mouth feels like sandpaper. With the way my hands are shaking, I shouldn’t have liquids. I honestly can’t remember when I’ve ever been this nervous. I follow him into the kitchen, dropping my bag near the couch along the way. Bellow’s bark subsides, but he remains by my feet when we reach the island. I pick him up and place him on my lap as I settle into the cushioned bar stool. Coach fills a glass with water from the faucet. When he turns back toward me, I clear my throat. “I need to start by being honest with you.”
His right eyebrow lifts, and I regret not taking that drink. I need something to keep my hands busy. I settle on petting Bellow.
“I originally met Cassie three years ago when she visited Bellow Bay. I regret not being upfront about that when I first arrived, but I honestly didn’t know how to handle it. I, uh, went about it all wrong.”As I do most things in life.
His eyes narrow as he studies me. It’s his constant assessment that drives me crazy. I never can read what he’s thinking.
“I figured as much.”
