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He laughs, shrugging me off. “Keep your emotions in check, bro.”
“What can I say? It feels good to have my friend back, dude.” I grin, pushing him out of my path.
He smirks. “Well now, go get your girl. Good luck. I have a feeling that stubborn girl might not make it so easy.”
Shit. I know he’s right. I might be in for the battle of my life.
But I’m ready.
53
KARLI
“…And that’s why I’m begging you for another chance,” I plead with the decorative mirror hanging on the living room wall.
No. Notbegging. That doesn’t feel quite right.
I may be borderline desperate but I know that a little bit of dignity and self-respect will go a long way. No begging.
I clench the crinkled sheet of paper in my sweaty hand and I try again.
“…That’s why I ask for another chance.”
Hmm. More fire. I need more fire.
“…And that’s why I demand another chance,” I say with rattling force and conviction in my voice.
Yes.Demand. That’s the right word. Idemandanother chance.
Leaning over the coffee table, I scribble the word-change onto my script.
Except maybe the worddemandsounds a little bossy. Wait. What’s a less bossy synonym fordemand?
Oh god. I’m psyching myself out so bad right now.
I’ve decided. I’m getting Mason back. I’m not giving him a choice. And I’m doing it today. I’m done letting that negative voice in my head come up with reasons why I can’t have this man I want more than anything.
Mason makes me better in every way. And I know I can be the partner he needs. If only he can get over the guilt that he’s letting keep us apart. All he needs is some convincing.
That’s why I’ve written a letter. No—a speech.
I’m going to show up at his house in Honey Hill and I’m going to deliver my speech and I’m going to win my man back once and for all. That’s the plan.
My overnight bag is packed and it’s sitting by the door. I’ve got homemade granola and coffee for the road. And fuck my shaky nerves; I’m doing this.
Whether or not my speech is perfect.
It’s already getting dark. I have to go. Because I don’t want to spend one more night of my life without Mason Westbrook’s strong arms around me.
Folding up the paper and sliding it into my purse, I double-check to make sure I have everything I need. I shake out my hands to get rid of the tingles. Then I scoop my overnight bag off the floor.
I’m standing under the porch light, locking the front door when headlights cut through the dark, flooding the front yard.
Goddamnit. It better not be any of my annoying brothers coming to harass me again. I’ve had enough of them bugging me and trying to make things right.
Yes, I forgive them. It’s not like I can stay mad at them for long anyway. But right now, I just need my space to figure things out. I’ve told them this. As usual, they aren’t listening.
I turn toward the approaching vehicle, ready to curse up a storm. But I can’t see which of my brothers it is with these headlights shining into my face.
