I’ve got what we need. Meet up at the mansion in twenty.
She thinks she’s still in control, that I’ll come crawling back like I always do, tail between my legs, ready to play my part. But not this time.
The sticky note is a gravestone for everything I once believed. I always thought Oscar was the one unshakable truth in her life. The one person she couldn’t ruin.
But she did. She chose ambition over love. And in doing so, she buried herself.
I’m not her pawn anymore.
She wanted a legacy? She’s about to get one.
But not the kind she thinks.
THIRTY-TWO
The smell of gasoline and cheap windshield cleaner clings to the air, and my Mercedes gleams under the fluorescent gas station lights.This is one of my first rides with it, and I’m still buzzing like a kid on Christmas morning.
I just paid for our gas and am walking back toward the car with a Snickers bar in hand. Nicholas is sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed, his brooding perfected to an art form. I slide into the driver’s seat and toss the candy into his lap. “Here. For your addiction.”
Nicholas looks down at the wrapper and practically lights up. I have no idea what’s up with him lately, but he seems sad and closed off more often than not. And I don’t like it.
How can you be in a bad mood when you’re sitting in such a car?
He rips the plastic open and takes a dramatic bite. “God, I love you,” he says, still chewing. “Marry me, Copy.”
I laugh as I start the engine, the low purr sending a shiver down my spine. “Tempting, Snickers, but I don’t think Veronica would be happy about our union.”
“True.” He leans back, chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth like a satisfied five-year-old. “Then at least makeOscar adopt me. He’s amazing. Meanwhile, my mother won’t even let me eat a damn candy bar without a lecture on carbs.” His voice sharpens with bitterness. “I’d rather live with you guys. I bet Oscar stocks nothing but junk food.”
I grin as I ease the car onto the road. “You’re not wrong. He’s got an entire drawer of candy because it makes Levi happy.”
“See?” Nicholas sighs wistfully. “Perfect house, perfect uncle. And… you, dickhead.”
“Dickhead yourself,” I shoot back. It’s not my best comeback but whatever.
He chuckles and takes another bite of his Snickers bar. “No, seriously. You’re okay, I guess…” He pauses for effect, smirking sideways at me. “Except for your taste in music.”
“Excuse me? At least I have taste. You listen to house music and pretend it’s cool.”
“Yeah, because itiscool.” He puts on a mock-offended look, one that could almost rival Levi’s flair for the dramatic. “Better than country anyway.”
I gasp as if he’s insulted my whole family. “Take that back.”
He leans back, smug. “I’d rather eat kale.”
I roll my eyes and floor the gas pedal a little, letting the Mercedes glide onto the highway. The hum of the engine is as smooth as a dream as the streetlights and city signs flash by in blurs of neon.
Nicholas hums, blissed out from chocolate and speed, as my phone pings from the cup holder between us.
“Grab that for me?” I ask, nodding at the screen.
He picks it up and squints at the text. “There’s a race tonight.” He reads out the location and time, which is in thirty minutes, and then glances at me with a grin spreading across his face. “They’re asking if you’re coming.”
I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Arewegoing?”
“First race for the Mercedes?Hell yes. But I don’t know if it can hold up against the Mustang.”
“Of course it can,” I huff, taking the next exit. The streetlights get sparser as we drive farther from the main strip and head toward the neighborhood where the race is supposed to start, still driving way too fast.
