I whirl around to face him. “That’s not fair, and you fucking know it. Did you expect me to die alone? Never meet anyone?”
“You could have had me!” he shouts.
“I didn’t know!” I yell back.
“That’s because all you’ve ever seen me as is your fucking lap dog.” He stands up. “You knew I would always be there, no matter what. Guess what, Les? I’m not that guy anymore. You can have Leo and Gage and whoever the fuck else you want in your life. Because I’m done.”
“So, that’s it? Twenty-five years, and you’re throwing it away?” My words come out in a whisper-yell, trying to keep my voice down because I don’t want his dad to hear us yelling at each other. Does he not realize he is one of the most important people in my life?
“I can’t do it, Les,” he says hoarsely. “I can’t watch you with them.”
“I want you too,” I beg. “I want you in my life too!”
He’s already shaking his head. “I want you in my life too, but I want to be the only guy in yours.”
My heart sinks to my stomach. I’m either giving up Ryder or the other guys. How the hell am I supposed to make that decision? Despite our differences, I love Leo, but that’s four months versus twenty-five years. Gage is also working his way further into my heart. Holden is finally opening up to me, and Dex trusts me enough to push him out of his head. Can I give that up to save my friendship with Ryder?
“I can tell by your silence that this isn’t what you want. And that’s fine.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Go be with them, Les.”
“What about us?” I ask, tears gathering in my eyes. I can’t stop them from forming.
“There. Is. No. Us,” he says through clenched teeth.
I stare at him, and it’s like I don’t even know who he is right now. I can feel my heart breaking into pieces, but I can also tell by thestubborn set of his jaw that we aren’t getting anywhere. I jerk the door open before tears start streaming down my face, running down the stairs and past a worried-looking Rocco. I can’t stop to say anything; I need to get out. Now.
I jump into my car, slamming the door shut and stabbing the button to start it. I shove my sunglasses on and peel out of the driveway, apologizing to Rocco in my head as I make the turn in the circle driveway, heading back towards the gate. I barely give it time to open before flying through them.
I know I’m going way too fast, but I can’t stop slamming through gears, pressing the gas harder and harder. I need to slow down because I can’t see through the tears, but I can’t bring myself to stop.
I hit the main highway, swerving in and out of cars, mentally flipping off whoever beeps their horn. I can’t go home like this, not when my world is crumbling beneath my feet. My phone starts ringing, and I see Rocco’s number pop up. I hit ignore, nearly taking out the back of a minivan. I swerve at the last second, and it scares me more that it doesn’t scare me.
My phone rings again and again; I keep hitting ignore. I don’t want to talk to anyone. When Ryder’s number pops up, I stab the window button and toss the phone out of the window before rolling it back up.
Fuck him. Fuck this. Fuck everything.
I drive aimlessly for fifteen minutes, just weaving through traffic, and that’s when I hear the sirens wailing behind me, only catching up because I’m hitting a stall in traffic. I can run; there is no way they could catch this car, but what good would that do?
I jerk over to the shoulder, killing the engine. I wipe my eyes the best I can, but the tears just won’t stop. I look in my side-view mirror and narrow my eyes.
Mid-thirties. Tall. Built. Dirty blonde hair. Whiskey-colored eyes. Sexy as sin.
And wearing a goddamn detective’s badge.
I stab the window button for the passenger side when he walks around the back of the car so he’s not in traffic.
He leans his elbows on the window frame,mirrored sunglasses hiding those sinfully hot eyes. The eyes that used to look at me with lust now look at me with disdain. I’m the enemy now, not the teenage girl he used to spend hours inside of.
“What can I do for you, Detective?” I ask. At least the tears stopped.
“You were going a little fast, don’t ya think, Ms. Poletti?” he replies, looking around inside the car.
I have to suppress a snort at the formal name. This man used to groan my fucking name. “Didn’t notice.”
“Have you been drinking?” he asks, and I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me.
“No. I haven’t.” I’m done with the pleasantries. “What do you want, Zane?”
Of all the luck after what happened, it’s none other than Zane Ayers, son of the late Zeus Ayers, one of my dad’s most trusted men before Zeus died. The same Zane I had an on-again-off-again relationship with for over a year. We had no business messing around, but that didn’t stop us from sneaking away when we could.
