Page 70 of Hayden


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Addison

As Hayden stomps off, I slam the door shut as hard as I can. “Take that, you fucker!”

I am so mad at that man right now.

He clearly won that round with his turning the tables on me.

Grrr…

Why does he always have to get the last word in?

And to think I was actually kind of excited to see him on my doorstep, despite his ringing the bell like a lunatic and aggravating me.

But then he had to be a jerk and irritate me further.

That man knows exactly which buttons to push.

Of course, once he started up, I had to as well.

It’s always that way with us.

I guess we’re too much alike. We both always have to be right.

But is he correct about me being afraid?

Ahh, there’s the million-dollar question.

Did I make a big deal out of him talking with Kristi because I was looking for a way to push him away?

Shit, maybe.

Sighing, I take the package upstairs, where I open it in my bedroom only to find it’s some new leggings I bought.

Setting the garments aside, I grab the packaging to take downstairs to throw away.

On the way down the carpeted steps, I’m beyond distracted. I’m still thinking about Hayden and everything he said.

I’m so in another world that I miss the next-to-last step, and—wham!—I twist my left ankle on the bottom stair, promptly landing on my ass.

“Ow, ow, ow.”

Seated at the base of the staircase, I lift up and rub my sore butt. It aches, yeah, but I have some padding there. I’ll be all right.

What really hurts is my ankle.

I attempt to stand and…nope.

I sit right the hell back down on the thankfully carpeted floor.

What am I going to do now?

My ankle really freaking hurts.

Should I even try to put weight on it?

I don’t want to make it worse.

Looking around, I notice my phone is on a stand at the base of the staircase next to me.

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