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“Anyway, I know about her,” I said. “I know you’ve been sleeping with her.”
“Who?”
“Jessica.”
“Babe, come on. What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about, Quinton. There is no us. Not anymore. So, I need you to leave so I can finish packing.”
“It was one time, Zoey. One time.”
“It was more than that. Don’t you dare stand there and lie to me,” I spoke calmly.
“Well, I wouldn’t have had to if you would have paid attention to me!” he shouted. “You did this to us, Zoey.” He pointed at me.
“Yeah. Okay, Quinton. Bye.” I opened the front door.
“Good riddance, Zoe.” He shook his head and walked out.
I sighed as I sat on the couch and picked up my glass of wine from the coffee table. Quinton and I had been dating for about six months, and things were getting too comfortable. I sighed in relief when I found out about his cheating because it was my way out without looking like the bad guy. There was nothing left for me in Sacramento now that my grandmother was gone.
I loaded the last of my things and headed to my jeep that I called Finnick. Climbing inside, I gripped the steering wheel and took in a long, deep breath as I pulled out of the parking lot of my apartment building to start the new chapter of my life.
I was on the expressway and close to the exit where I needed to get off when my car started shaking.
“Shit. Not again. Come on, Finnick,” I whined.
Pulling over to the shoulder, it went completely dead.
“No. No. No.” I banged on the steering wheel. “You couldn’t have waited until I was off the expressway, you piece of shit!” I pounded on the dashboard.
Pulling my phone from my purse, I noticed it was dead. Reaching inside the center console for my charger, it wasn’t in there.
“UGH!” I’d forgotten I took it out one night when we took Quinton’s car to dinner.
Laying my forehead on the steering wheel, I had to think. Climbing out, I walked around to the back of the jeep, grabbed the large lug wrench, and stood there with my arms folded, praying that a nice couple would stop to help me and not some psycho killer. If it were a psycho killer, I was prepared.
It had been fifteen minutes when a convertible Bentley pulled over. A psycho killer wouldn’t be driving that expensive of a car, right? Gripping the lug wrench, the car door opened, and a man who stood about six foot two climbed out.
“Do you need some help?” he asked as he walked over.
I stared at the ruggedly handsome man through my oversized sunglasses, and my heart leaped into my throat.
“Maybe,” I spoke.
“How long have you been standing out here?” he asked.
“About fifteen minutes.”
“Do you have a flat?” He smiled as he pointed to the lug wrench I held with a death grip.
“Oh, this? No.” I laughed. “This was for protection in case a psycho killer stopped to help me. You’re not a psycho killer, are you?”
He chuckled. “No. I promise you that I’m not a psycho killer. What happened?”
“My car started shaking and went dead as soon as I pulled over.”
“Did you call anyone?”
