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She leans away from me like I’m contagious. Quickly, she shoves her door open and nearly falls while scrambling out. She slams the door so hard my truck rattles.
I roll down the window, thinking of ways to backpedal and erase the hurt from Larkin’s face. “You sure you’re okay to walk home from here?” is my genius retort.
She lifts her middle finger. “Have a nice fucking life, Jake Bower.”
I know this area. It’s safe. I’m the one who doesn’t feel safe near Larkin Gray, but I don’t like leaving her like this. Still, I pull my truck out and speed away from her.
* * *
Larkin
“Unbelievable,” I mutter as I watch Jake’s truck peel away.
My asshole radar is clearly on the fritz. I mean, how did I miss the signs? How didn’t I see the creep under Jake’s sweet-talking? I actually believed that shit about his parents. His stress over his relationship with Jolene. His care forme.
The jerk should be nominated for an Academy Award, and I need a reality check.
I was nothing but a joke to Jake Bower. The target of a cruel trick—make the slut feel safe and worthwhile for a minute, then take what you want.
My next exhale sounds like a growl.
Lampposts light the large trees and small bungalows on this part of Birch Street. A cat struts on a front lawn, watching me—Lola, by the looks of her size and bushy tail. Hopefully she was out terrorizing the boys on the block.
“Men are such assholes,” I tell her.
She mewls. I take that as an agreement, but I don’t feel better.
I rub my eyes, barely resisting the urge to dig my nails into my cheeks. I am sotiredof men using me. Of being physically weaker. Scared. Judged. A freaking damsel in distress, needing to be saved. It’s time I find my backbone and take charge of my life.
What better time than the present?
Swallowing down tonight’s humiliation, I turn and strut for Derek’s home. I need my clothes and passport. Derek won’t be home for ages, and I’m a strong, capable girl. The type of fierce woman who solves her own problems.
The last thing I need is Jake Bower to have my back.
* * *
