He says nothing.
That says plenty.
I stare at him.
And suddenly I am not hurt anymore.
I am just done.
“You didn’t come here because you missed me,” I say. “You came here because you thought I was useful again.”
“Lexie, that’s not fair.”
I laugh in his face.
Fair.
That word, from him.
“You used me,” I say, stepping closer now, anger burning hot and clean through my veins. “You took my money, insulted my body, dumped me when you thought I had nothing left to give you, and now you show up the second you think there’s something in it for you again?”
His mouth tightens. “I said I made a mistake.”
“No,” I snap. “You showed me exactly who you are.”
The look in his eyes goes mean then, the mask finally slipping.
“Seriously?” he says. “You can’t do better than me.”
The words have barely left his mouth when a truck door slams outside.
Darren’s head jerks toward the sound.
Mine does too.
Relief hits me so hard it feels like laughter.
A second later Weston comes up the porch steps.
He takes in the scene in one sweep. Me. Darren. My face. Darren’s too-close posture near my door.
And everything in him changes.
He goes still.
Cold.
Dangerous.
“Problem?” he asks, voice flat as a blade.
Darren straightens, trying for swagger and missing by a mile. “I’m talking to my girlfriend.”
Weston’s gaze cuts to him.
Then to me.
I do not hesitate.
