There’s fucking pulp in the juice.
“What kind of human rights violation is this?” I mutter, staring at the glass like it personally betrayed me. Then I get to work making myself some food; I have to eat before I get hangry and take it out on anyone I come into contact with—especially since today I might have to look for a job.
I’m standing at the kitchen island with my half-eaten breakfast when I hear a noise behind me. Reacting on pure instinct, I whip around and bring my knee up hard and fast, connecting with something soft on the large body crowding me.
Levi drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes, his hands flying to his groin as his face turns a nice shade of purple.
“Holy shit,” he wheezes out, curling into himself. “What the fuck, Abby?”
“Don’t sneak up on people,” I snap, turning back to my eggs like I didn’t incapacitate him. My heart is pounding, but I’m not about to let him know.
He takes several minutes to recover, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he carefully pushes himself up onto his elbows. When he finally manages to sit up, there’s a grimace on his face that’s almost satisfying.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says once he can stand, and he heads straight to the fridge like he didn’t get kneed in the balls. “Sleep well?”
“Would have slept better if I knew you weren’t lurking around,” I say, not looking up from my food, though I stab at it a little more aggressively than necessary.
He laughs, pulling out some protein powder and milk, seemingly unbothered by his recent brush with permanent infertility. “Lurking? I’m simply staying here, just like you.”
“Yeah, and I’m trying to eat breakfast without having to look at your face, so maybe show some consideration.”
“Ouch,” he says, smiling as if he finds the whole situation funny. “I thought we might start fresh. You know, let bygones be bygones?”
I finally look at him, my fork pausing midway to my mouth.
He’s standing there in tiny shorts that are way too tight, probably just back from the gym based on the way his skin is still covered in sweat. Levi is looking at me like we’re old friends instead of being one of the assholes who completely shattered my heart and tossed me aside like I was nothing.
“Start fresh?” I put my fork down carefully, deliberately. “You’re a walking red flag, Levi Kane.”
He flashes that cocky smile that used to make my knees weak, but now it just makes my blood boil. “Red flags fuck better.”
Oh, that’s it. “You know what? Fuck you,” I snap. “You don’t get to come in here and think we can be friends after what you did. You don’t get to make innuendos and pretend like none of it matters.”
“Relax,” he says, his tone infuriatingly calm. “I’m just saying?—”
“I know what you’re saying, and it’s gross and manipulative and exactly the shit that makes me realize you were never worth my time.” Grabbing my plate from the bench, I stalk toward the sink.
Though I can feel him watching me, I don’t turn around. I rinse my plate aggressively, the hot water burning my hands, but I don’t care. At least it’s something I can control.
“Abby,” Levi says, his voice softer now, almost apologetic.
“Don’t,” I say, cutting him off. “Don’t apologize or explain. And don’t try to charm your way out of this like you always do. You had your chance, Levi.”
I set the plate down gently in the drying rack, even though what I really want to do is throw it at his stupid, beautiful face.
“The past is exactly where it belongs,” I say quietly, finally turning to face him. “And I suggest you leave it there.”
It’s at that moment that Landon walks in. He’s still in his gym clothes and his blue eyes scan the kitchen, taking in the scene in front of him—Levi staring at me, me standing at the sink with my hands clenched into fists, and the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife.
His gaze lands on me, and something flickers across his face. It’s gone too fast for me to identify, but the way his jaw tightens tells me he’s picking up on our argument.
“Morning,” he says, his voice neutral as he heads straight for the fridge. He pulls it open and reaches for the juice bottle—the one with the pulp, naturally. Of course he drinks pulpy juice like some kind of monster.
“You know that juice is a human rights violation,” I say, unable to stop myself. “I don’t know how you can drink that—it’s like drinking liquid sand.”
Landon glances at me, one eyebrow raised, and a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Funny. I don’t remember you being so concerned about what I drink.”
“Yeah, well, I remember a lot of things I’d rather forget,” I snap back, turning away from them.
