I gave a short, mocking laugh. “That’s how you’re going to fix me? Telling me I have daddy issues?”
Her brow arched, controlled and cutting. “There was something about her that triggered you. And bullying her made you powerful for five minutes.”
My throat burned as her words shook my insides. “It wasn’t like that.”
Val’s gaze pinned me, steady and merciless. “Tell me what it was like.”
I couldn’t. My mind went blank except for Dad’s voice booming through the house and Nina’s face when she wheezed and squirmed and went pale on the ground behind the bleachers.
She leaned in closer. “You’re afraid.”
“Of course I’m fucking afraid!” I shot to my feet, voice ricocheting off the walls.
Val smiled—just faintly, enough to sting. “That’s healthy. It means you feel there’s something to lose. A part of you thinks there’s hope.”
Anger shot through me. “I’m not doing this.”
She sat back, unruffled, and scribbled something on her pad. “That’s fine. But the truth doesn’t go away just because you refuse to say it. And until you do, there won’t be progress.” She glanced at me, calm as ever. “I have a feeling people are counting on you.”
I dropped back onto the couch, arms crossed so tight my shoulders ached. With my eyes fixed on the window, I stared past her, counting down the seconds until the clock released me.
The lounge smelledof burned coffee and permanent marker. Neon Post-its still littered the corkboard and cabinets. My road map of penitence before I realized it was pointless. It was insulting to even think I could make anything better. My eyes locked on one I didn’t recognize, fresh and vicious, penned in Nina’s loopy handwriting:In Lincoln’s world, stalking is foreplay.
My jaw tightened. Nina’s words. I plucked the napkin with the brand-new Reality Bites logo off the fridge. I’d helped design it. My chest buzzed with the mix of shame and dark hunger. Forher. I wanted to read her complaint, decipher any clues she might have left in her message about how to redeem myself. I was ravenous for the delusion. She could set me on fire in five words flat, and the worst part? I wanted to burn.
I tugged a Sharpie out of the cup on the table and bit the cap as I yanked it off. My hand hovered over the sticky square, pulse thudding in my ears. I slapped a note next to hers, black ink pressed hard enough to tear the paper:
In Lincoln’s world, harassmentwasan acceptable form of romance.
Carmen let out a low whistle. “Christ, you two are insane.” Her phone clicked—she’d taken a picture, because of course she had.
I leaned back, cracking my neck, but the heat in my chest didn’t ease. Not even close.
“She doesn’t even have a clue,” Carmen muttered, slumping into the chair across from me. Her voice dropped lower, her face tighter. “No idea how much money her parents had. It makes me so mad.”
That rage I’d been caging, shifted and found a new target. My knuckles whitened on the Sharpie. “Her aunt and uncle squandered most of what her parents put away,” she said. “She’s been carrying herself on fumes, they cashed everything in. Most of Vinny’s tuition came from her parents. Out-of-state tuition. Nina had to get fucking loans.”
I balled my fists. “If I don’t put my fist through a wall, it’ll be a miracle.”
Carmen pressed her lips together. “I never thought it’d be this bad.”
I surged forward, elbows braced on my knees. “I’m done waiting. First Natasha. She gets buried for what she pulled with Infinity Weddings. I want her fired on the spot.Blacklisted.I don’t want her working again, not in this industry, not in this city. Like the bitch she is. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Lincoln—”
“I mean it.” My voice came out low, dangerous. “She went after Nina’s livelihood. She tried to erase her. She doesn’t get to walk away from that.”
Carmen’s face pinched. “You did too.”
That stopped me in my tracks. She wasn’t wrong.
“The second you go for Natasha, she’ll retaliate. You’re out for blood.” Her eyes showed determination. “I get it. Just… won’t you regret it?”
Her question pulled at my urge to lash out, but I pushed it down. I barked a laugh that carried the force of habit more than real humor. “Regret? That word doesn’t exist for me. Or did you forget who the hell I was before I hit my head? Don’t play shrink, Carmen. Leave that to my fucking therapist.”
Her eyes narrowed, lips pressed flat.
I shoved the Sharpie back in the cup with too much force, plastic clattering.
