Page 79 of Lucky Shot

His hands are fisted in the lapel of my jacket in a heartbeat, and he gives me a harsh shake. “I will not tolerate this nonsense anymore. You want to come home for the holidays? For summer? There best not be another incident such as this because delinquents are not welcome in my house.”

I hate you.

I hate you with everything I have.

“My mum would never allow . . .” I say but when I lock eyes with my mum over his shoulder, her head is shaking. There’s such sadness in her eyes that I know she’ll actually go along with it. With him.

Out of sight.

Out of mind.

“Understood, Alexander?” he asks.

He’s already taken her from me. He’s already replaced me with himself.

I look up at him and grin, never feeling more alone in my life than I do right now.

And I’m already plotting where my next slip-and-slide will go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Whitney

I glance at my watch and then back at the crowd gathered.

Yep. They’re not going anywhere and apparently, Hardy decided not to show today.

And they’re all here—the kids, the press, the random people who drove however many miles to come watch the free show he puts on every day—and I don’t have anything for them because they sure as shit are not here for me.

But I refuse to make excuses for him. It seems that’s the normal in his life per the first go around with Ari after he stood her up.

I shake my head, uncertain what to make of his no-show and desperate not to overthink it.

There’s a shocker.

But I called him two nights ago against my better judgment. I called him because I had been in the wrong, and he’d deserved an apology. I called him because I was trying to be a better person and let someone in.

And selfishly, I kept thinking about the way he kissed me, the way he made me feel. Is it so horrible that when I took a step back, those two things were a bright spot that even my fear and doubts couldn’t dim?

Was it so bad that I dared to want to feel that again?

But in true Whitney Barnes fashion, I let my guard down, allowing him in to see parts of the real me, and just when I thought I could start to trust him, he ghosted me.

Can’t say I’m not used to it.

Can’t even say I’m surprised.

But the sting is there. The hurt even more so.

Neither stops me from looking toward the parking lot every few seconds to see if he’s shown up.

But he hasn’t.

Good riddance, Hardy.

I think the thought, but my heart hurts for the kids and for the disappointment still settling on their faces with only thirty minutes of camp left for the day.

But this is good.