CHAPTER ONE
THURSDAY
THADDEUS
Where the hell are you?
I glaredat my phone sitting in its cradle and raised my middle finger to the screen, telling my best—ex-best friend, Phillip, to “Fuck off.”
I’d no sooner got the words out when the interior of the antiquated Rover lit up like a Christmas tree, and a boom of thunder loud enough to rattle my eardrums shook me in my seat.
“Holy shit.” I peered through the windscreen, my heart racing.I must’ve lost my freaking mind driving through this.
In response, another crack of thunder blasted overhead, and the persistent drizzle became a deluge of monsoon proportions, blurring any distinction between the edge of the gravel road and Langley Forest beyond. At five o’clock on a late spring evening, it may as well have been midnight for all I could see through the sheeting rain.
I gave my cheek a slap to wake my brain the fuck up, so I didn’t get myself killed, and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. Another crack of lightning starkly illuminated the trees on either side of the road, resulting in a ghoulish tableau of twisted branches that seemed to reach toward each other over the tarmac like I was in a fucking horror movie.
And yes, I was definitely losing my goddamn mind. The irritatingclick-swish,click-swish,click-swishof the old windscreen wipers wasn’t exactly helping, either.
“Get a grip, Thaddeus.” I leaned forward and squinted over the steering wheel just as another crash of thunder boomed. “For fuck’s sake.” I surveyed the weighty black clouds looming overhead and muttered, “Go ruin some other poor sod’s day, why don’t you? I think you’ve put me through enough already.”
My phone dinged with another text, and although I tried not to look, I just couldn’t fucking resist.
We need to talk.
I huffed and turned back to the road, which was growing bleaker and narrower by the second. I flicked on my lights, grumbling, “No, Phillip, we don’t. We really,reallydon’t.”
Ding.
Please let me explain. You owe me that much.
“I... what?” I almost choked on the words, fury bubbling over. “I don’t owe you a thing, you... you... you total fucking arsehole,” I shouted into the empty car. “There is nothing you could say to me that could possiblyexplainyou fucking my boyfriend behind my back. Zero. Zip. Nada. Have a nice life, dickhead.” I stabbed my finger repeatedly at the screen until I finally hit the right spot and the text disappeared.
Ding.
Come on, Thad. We’re best friends. We can get through this.
I gaped. Had the man lost his fucking mind?
But instead of Phillip, it was Judd this time.
This is so like you. So immature. At least let us know you’re okay.
Us? Immature? What the actual fuck?Were theytogether,maybe at Phillip’s place? Together and talking about me? My ex-boyfriend and my best friend. Maybe even laughing about how it had all gone down. ‘You should’ve seen his face. It was priceless.’A funny story they’d retell in the future, maybe even to our friends.
A thought occurred to me.Jesus Christ.Did they—shit—what if they... loved each other? My cheeks burned, and I buried the thought as deeply as I could. Bad enough that Judd had cheated on me with my best...ex-best friend, but the idea that they might actually care for each other— No. I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. I refused to go there.
Focus. Focus. Focus.I squinted through the slashing rain, trying to get my bearings. I had a vague idea of where I was, but that was about it. I was hardly what you’d call a traveller. I’d left Wellington about a dozen times in my entire life, and ninety per cent of those times had been in an aeroplane.
Except, of course, for today, when I’d haired out of Wellington city and up the Hutt Valley like my arse was on fire. Anywhere that wasn’t my brand-spanking-new apartment with my boyfr—ex-boyfriend packing his stuff to move out, which was just fine with me. I didn’t need the drama. Lord knew there’d been enough of it for one day. My neat and tidy life ruined by a single text which had been sent mistakenly from my bestfriend Phillip tomeinstead of its intended recipient, my live-in boyfriend, Judd.
Can’t wait to have my arse owned at lunch if you can manage to ditch Thad for fifteen minutes.
Oops.
What followed was as predictable and pathetic as most cheating break-ups tended to be. A lot of shouting, recriminations, apologies, promises never to do it again, tears, reciprocal accusations—all untrue, since I’d never cheated in my life.
There wasn’t nearly enough genuine remorse on Judd’s part for my liking. And when he realised I wasn’t going to change my mind and launched into a sermon about how I’d really brought it on myself by being emotionally unavailable and pushing him to find solace and attention in another man’s arms, I called it a day. I stormed off, uttering a slew of expletives, followed by a hefty slam of the door and a directive to have his stuff out of my apartment before sundown.
