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Fuck you.

I keep scrolling down on the thread and notice she texted me again two hours later.

Look, I’m sorry for what happened.

I still love you.

She really is a piece of work. The only reason I kept lines of communication open with her was because she could have been carrying my child, and I’m not a dick who’s about to shrug off my responsibilities. But since I got solid proof I have none, I tap on her contact and hit “block.” I spend the next five minutes finding her on every social media platform and even bring up her email hitting “block” on that too.

Goodbye, Amie.

Good luck raising a child with Alex asshole Schneider. I really feel for that kid. Doesn’t stand a chance with parents like them.

CHAPTER THREE

ZACH

The Florida heat hits me square in the face as I exit the airport, and I scan the pickup lane for Mom’s silver Range Rover Evoque, her dream car that I bought for her last Christmas. If you’re earning eight figures a year and can’t treat your mom, then what are you doing with your money?

“Over here, honey!” She leans out the driver’s window just a few cars down.

Dumping my suitcases in the trunk, I jump in the passenger side and kiss her on the cheek. “Hey, Mom.”

“Good flight?”

Turbulence and hangovers don’t mix. “Yeah, it was fine.”

She pins me with a concerned look. “You look washed out.”

“I’ll be fine. I got the news I needed. I just need to catch up on sleep.”

“Why don’t you stay at our house for a couple of nights? The guest room is all made up.”

I love my parents, but I need my own space. “Thanks, but I just want to get started at the house.”

Mom joins the freeway and glances over at me. “Okay, but at least stay for dinner.”

I’m close to my parents, always have been, so moving to Seattle was tough. I was drafted early but opted to go to Tampa Bay College and study engineering, but as I entered my senior year, the Scorpions called me up, so I moved to the West Coast.

It's only fifteen miles from the airport to Mom and Dad’s place, and it passes with a barrage of questions about Amie along with her angry rants about the way she treated her son. “Your dad and I never liked her, Zach. She was trouble right from the beginning.”

We pull up in the long gravel driveway. Mom and Dad have lived here since I was born. It’s a small, three-bedroom home with a modest backyard. I offered to buy them something bigger, but as it’s only me and no other siblings, they don’t see the point. My dad, Andrew, is a house painter and decorator, and my mom, Rachel, works at the local library, so I wasn’t brought up with money. The least I could do was pay off their mortgage, and I did with the fat signing bonus I received from the Scorpions.

I grab my bags from the car when Dad races outside, his arms outstretched. “Son, it’s great to see you. Welcome home.”

“Hey, Dad, good to be home.”

“Your mom tells me you’re back for the offseason and to work on the beach house.”

We make our way up the porch and step into the entryway; the familiar scent of home hits me immediately and warms my chest. “Yeah, I want to get it fixed up. Thought it might be good for me.”

“I’d say you’re right, and I can give you a hand.”

“Sounds good. I was going to ask Luke if he wanted to help.”

It’s been a while since I caught up with my high school buddy and oldest friend, Luke. We were inseparable when younger andplayed hockey together, but then I went off to college, and he stayed behind to work for my dad.

“You can ask him now,” Mom chimes in. “Is he still here?”