I snorted and crossed my arms over my chest. “You don’t know what love is, and you probably never will.”
I watched Wyatt Hastings, a man who always got what he wanted, realize that his act no longer worked on me. That whatever he’d come here tonight expecting, he wasn’t going to get it.
And that meant he was dangerous. Because a denied Wyatt was a dangerous Wyatt.
His hands slid into his pockets as he strolled toward me. It was the casual way he moved, the easy, unbothered approach that told me he was gearing up to strike. To draw blood.
“Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian,” he murmured, shaking his head in disappointment. “Without me, you’d still be that sad, gay boy who desperately craved his daddy’s approval. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be nothing. I made you what you are, and now what? You’re going to stand there and complain that I didn’t give you exactly what you wanted?” He made atskingsound. “You loved being my whore.”
I forced myself not to flinch, not to give him the reaction he so desperately wanted.
“In the beginning, maybe,” I conceded flatly, moving away as he continued advancing steadily toward me.
My phone chose that moment to buzz loudly three times in my pocket, the sound identifying it as an incoming text fromTaylor. His plane must have landed. I slid a hand into my pocket and palmed my phone, using it as an anchor of sorts.
“But that’s not who I am. Not anymore.”
I watched Wyatt’s expression shift from arrogance to confusion, then anger, and eventually understanding. His eyes flicked to my pocket, then back to my face. “The hockey player.”
I lifted my chin. “Taylor.”
He exhaled hard through his nose and glanced away for a moment, running his hand over his jaw, seemingly deep in thought. When he turned back to me, it was clear that he was about to attempt yet another tactic to bend me to his will.
It was baffling to me that he didn’t realize that I could see right through him, that I recognized what he was doing at every turn.
“Are you really willing to sacrifice everything we have together—the things we could achieve together—for someone like that?”
If he thought for even a second that the promise of power was going to work on me after everything, he was even more delusional than I thought.
And making this about Taylor?
I refused to take the bait.
He cast his line again.
“You can’t be serious.” He snorted. “The guy’s a fucking joke, Seb. A third-rate player on a terrible team. A dumb jock with no prospects.” He shook his head like he was sad for me. Like he pitied me. Like I was stupid for not seeing it. “A thousand dollars says you’re tired of him inside of six months.”
What Wyatt didn’t understand was that I wouldneverget tired of Taylor.
Not of him arguing with me with complete conviction about whether a hot dog was a sandwich, or our midnight conversations where he’d ask me something completelyunhinged, like who the first person was who’d decided to try to eat a lobster. I’d never stop wanting to laugh with him until my eyes watered and my sides ached.
I’d never want to walk into a room he was in and not immediately feel a sense of rightness wash over me.
I never wanted to say “I love you” to anyone who wasn’t him for the rest of my life.
“Shut the fuck up.”
He scoffed. “Holy shit. You’re actually in love with him.” He laughed. “You poor fucking idiot.”
“Yes, I’m in love with him.” My phone buzzed again. “And it’s time for you to leave.”
He stared at me for a long time before his mouth flattened into a hard line, and he moved toward the door. Pausing with his hand on the knob, he said, his voice low and menacing, “You’re going to regret this.” Then he yanked it open and stormed out.
My hand found my pocket, and I pulled my phone out, seeing the emoji of a plane touching down.
Not a fucking chance, I thought, grabbing my keys and jogging down the back stairs.
If I drove fast enough, I could meet Taylor just as he was pulling into his driveway.
