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His eyes narrow. “I’m curious why exactly you care so much, Beck. Because I don’t see you doing much to help anyone but yourself. So is this actually a good deed, or is it just that she’s one of the very few girls in the county you haven’t had a chance to fuck?”
I’ve wanted to punch Caleb in his smug face before—every time he tried to tone Kate down or asked her to be less of what she is. But my anger is different now, and worse. It’s the kind of anger that could permanently destroy a friendship I’ve had since I was a little kid if I gave in to it.
I head toward the front door and he follows.
I snatch my helmet off the table. “I’m gonna leave before I do something I might regret, but let’s get this straight: I’m not the bad guy here. You wanting a divorce threw her for a loop. That’s not your fault, but she’s worked too damn hard getting where she is to let it all be fucked up now, and she needs someone in her court.”
“Let’s get one more thing straight,” he replies. “Any damage the divorce has done is minimal compared to the damageyou’llcause by turning her into one of your meaningless fuck buddies.”
I turn and walk out of the house.
Caleb’s wrong. Because if I was sleeping with Kate, it could never be meaningless. Not for a second.
Andshe’snot the one who’d be fucked up when it ended.
14
KATE
It only takes me a few trips to get everything into my trunk.
I still can’t believe he just left. And I can’t believe I packedslowly,hoping he’d return.
I go back up to grab my purse and toiletry bag but stop at the front door to look around one last time. I shouldn’t have called his place a hovel. I mean, itisone, but it’s also simple and uncomplicated andright. I've liked it here—at least when he was around.
“Bye, Beck,” I whisper, my throat a little tight as I close the door behind me.
I trudge toward my car as if I’m wading through waist-deep water and when I reach the driver’s seat, my face presses to the steering wheel, but I refuse to cry.There are things worth your tears. Beck isn’t one of them. Suck it up.
I push the button to start the car, but nothing happens. I push the button again, and there’s still nothing, so I finally reach over to my purse to grab the keys.
And they aren’t there.
I stare at the place where my keyring normally clips on, not comprehending. I didn’t remove the keys, but if they somehow fell off, then they’re still inside his house—on the other side of the door I locked as I left.
Which means that now, after Beck took off like an asshole,I’mgonna have to call him and meekly plead for his help.
I reach into my purse for my phone. And it isn’t there either.
I stare, dumbfounded, until it finally comes together:
Beck.
Beck took my keys and my phone, anticipating my steps in precise order like some kind of master criminal profiler. I scream in frustration.Fucking Beck.Does he think this isfunny? Is this how he plans to punish me foraccidentallygetting lipstick on Caleb’s collar—making me sit out here all fucking day? We’re at least seven miles from town, and even if I walked all the way to his bar, there’d be no guarantee he was even there.
“It looks like I’m walking seven fucking miles,” I grit out, climbing from the car.
That’s when I hear a bike—in the distance but coming closer.
I start marching down the gravel driveway, as if this is a chicken fight and my whopping hundred and ten pounds is any match for him on a motorcycle. I’ve only made it ten feet when he stops in front of me, pulling off his helmet, casual as can be. His face is impassive, unapologetic—not a care in the fucking world, and if I were him, I’d haveseveralcares. He knows me—no one has ever suggested that I am even-tempered on the best of days.
I march toward him and hold out my hand. “Give me my keys.”
He smirks. “Sure. As soon as you’ve settled down.”
“Fuck you,” I say, hitting his chest. He barely seems to notice. “You fucking stole my keys and my phone. I had no idea how long you’d be gone. Give me my shit so I can leave.”
“No.”
