Page 140 of Sweet Distraction

“The more you explain, the more pissed I get.”

“There was a method to my madness.”

“What was that? To fuck over Willow and me all in one hearing?”

“No. To let the judge see how low the Whitmores are willing to go. None of that bullshit he brought in factors into who you are as a man and a father. That’s what those dozens and dozens of character witness statements do. Mr. Sally proved he’s grasping at straws by chasing social media posts and insinuating facts that have no relevance to you and Poppy.”

“So you hung her out to fucking dry?” I state the obvious and scrub a disbelieving hand over my face as my gut churns.

“I told you we had to do what we had to do.”

“It doesn’t sit well with me.”

“It never does until I get the end result that I want. We’ll get it this time.”

“Great. Fucking awesome. I win and Willow gets fucked.”

“Unfortunately, sometimes that’s how it works.”

There has to be something I can do to set the record straight.

I’ve been sitting out here for an hour, maybe more, trying to think just what that might be. My glass sits empty, has been for some time, but that doesn’t mean its contents don’t hum through my blood right now. I feel numb, and I’m not sure if that’s because I need to be or because I’ve already turned everything off—shut it down—to prevent the coming pain.

It’s not the hearing that gutted me. It’s not the possible consequences of my actions from years ago that I’ll need to live with if I lose Poppy, or the massive bender I know I’ll go on, if I do. It’s how this has affected Willow. Because of me.

It’s like a nightmare I can’t erase. Scene after scene and all because of me. Willow being vilified on social media sites because she’s with me. Willow facing the sleazeball Sally’s questions and insinuations about her life and how she lives it. It’s Willow’s picture in post after post, headline after headline about how she’s an opportunistic, gold-digging whore who’s using sex to get everything she wants out of life—her education, fame, attention . . . who the fuck knows what else because honestly, the accusations are so ridiculous they’re not even worth reading.

And now threats from the master’s program, where she had planned to continue her graduate degree, is investigating whether she deserves to be in the program or if strings were pulled for her.

Like . . . what the actual fuck.

I brought her into this, and I’ll be damned if I’m the reason she never gets out. If her reputation and future is ruined because of me.

The sliding glass door creaks open behind me.

I don’t turn. I know it’s her.

“Rock? You okay?” she asks, voice cautious, like she already knows the answer and doesn’t want to hear it confirmed.

She’s asking me if I’m okay when her life is being turned upside down?

I grit my teeth and fight the urge to roll my shoulders. She’ll think my irritation is because of her when it’s because of me.

I can’t do a goddamn thing to right this wrong—and even if I could, isn’t the damage already done?

I stare out at the skyline, fighting the urge to reach for her. To fall into her. Instead I do the only thing I know I can’t fail at. I breathe in. I breathe out.

And I do what she deserves and is in her best interest.

“Willow.” Fuck. The words stick in my throat as emotion burns bright around them. “You need to go.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Willow

My heart stops.

Not all at once. More like a boa constrictor wrapping around it and starving it from what it needs to beat. To live. To love.