Page 41 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

COLT

S tormy sits cross-legged on the floor, folding clothes that I didn’t even realize she owned.

There’s a duffel bag open beside her, half packed, the zipper yawning, like it already knows this isn’t a vacation.

I’m on the bed, leaning back on my elbows, watching her steal glances at me every few minutes, like she’s trying to memorize my face before we get on that plane.

“Have you ever visited New York?” she asks, holding one of her rolled-up tank tops in both hands.

“Nope. Never had a desire,” I say. “It’ll be an adventure for sure. Cowboy in the city.”

That earns me a soft laugh. She drops the shirt into the bag and sits back on her hands, hair slipping over her shoulder. She’s not wearing makeup. Her toenail polish is chipped. And she’s never looked more like herself than she does right now.

“I’m growing nervous,” she says after a beat. “It’s not something I’m used to.”

“It will be over before you know it.” I sit up fully, crossing to where she’s sitting. “I’m proud of you for wanting to confront the past. It’s not easy.”

Her eyes are steady. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I think you’re brave.”

That makes her smile.

I stand, then dip down and kiss her when I hear tires on gravel and an engine.

Stormy goes still. “Expecting someone?”

“Nope.” I freeze, listening for a familiar engine rumble, and she rises to her feet to join me.

Out the front window from the living room, I see a slick black car I don’t recognize, idling next to the Camaro. It’s shiny and out of place. A suit-and-tie kind of vehicle with the AC humming loud enough to hear from inside.

The driver’s door opens, and a dark-haired man steps out. Stormy gasps.

“My fucking car!” he screams as he walks around the Camaro. “What the fuck?!”

I hold back a laugh, watching him lose his shit.

Stormy’s half tucked against my shoulder like she’s bracing for impact.

Her ex circles the Camaro like it personally betrayed him. His hands are flailing, his voice rising with every step. “Are you kidding me?!” he shouts, crouching to inspect the dent in the passenger door. “My baby! The side mirrors are gone. Fucking gone! Destroyed.”

He kicks one of the front tires, then yelps when his foot bounces off it the wrong way. He staggers back, holding his foot like the car bit him.

Stormy snorts next to me, then quickly claps a hand over her mouth.

“This can’t be happening,” he says to himself, to the car, to the universe. “Scratches? Dents? Who the fuck does this?”

I open the door. The sound of gravel shifts under his shoes as he turns and glares at me.

He’s already halfway to the porch, walking toward me like he’s got the right to be here.

His suit is sharp, tailored for Manhattan, not Texas.

The air-conditioning in the car is still running behind him, loud enough to break the quiet.

He doesn’t glance around, doesn’t take in the house or the land or anything else that might remind him he’s out of his element. His focus is locked on me.

“Excuse me. I’m searching for someone,” he states. “Stormy Langford.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard anyone use her entire name.

Stormy steps up behind me. She doesn’t touch me, but she’s close enough to hear the way my breathing changes.

He sees her but his expression doesn’t soften. There’s no emotion in it at all, just expectation.

“There you are,” he says, like he’s greeting someone late for lunch.

His eyes shift to me, and I stay standing between him and whatever part of her he thought he could reclaim.

I cross my arms over my chest, and his posture stiffens when I stand straighter. He’s sizing me up, trying to figure out who I am and how much of a problem I’ll be. He gives me a once-over that’s meant to read as casual, but it’s too pointed to be anything but a warning.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he sneers, turning to Stormy. “You’ve been fucking him. What about us?”

Stormy doesn’t flinch. She takes a step out of the house with the baseball bat tight in her grip. I remember leaving it by the door.

Her expression is scrubbed clean, like she doesn’t have the energy to play a part for him anymore.

“What about us ?” she repeats, then scoffs, her brows furrowing. “There hasn’t been an us in years.”

“Don’t do that,” he says, taking a step forward, reaching out his hand to grab her.

She lifts the bat and points it at him. “Don’t come any closer.”

I keep my feet planted.

“Don’t pretend like I was the problem,” Donovan says. “I knew that’s what you’d do, leaving me crying and heartbroken at the altar.”

“Choose your next words wisely,” Stormy warns. Her tone is sharp as broken glass.

He lets out an unpleasant laugh. “Real cute, baby. Come on. It’s time to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He glares at me. “What? You’re choosing this child ? This boy could never give you what you need and require.”

The dumb fuck is trying to provoke me, which is something he doesn’t want. However, I see through it and don’t take the bait.

I stare back at him because I don’t owe him a damn thing.

“It’s time to come home,” he says to her, waving her toward him. “We have a wedding to reschedule.”

“It’s time for you to go,” I tell him, knowing I could snap him like a twig.

I step out onto the first plank and put my arm around her possessively. My touch is solid. She wraps her arm around me and then smirks. It’s enough to break the calm on his face, giving me the same expression as Tessa did. He sees what Stormy and I share; everyone does. It’s electric.

His jaw tightens as he squares his shoulders. “You’re not thinking straight, Storm. You must be having one of your episodes. I’ll call Dr. Jacobson; we can talk this out?—”

She barks out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you really name-dropping my therapist right now? You’re a piece of shit.”

He flicks toward the bat that she pushes into his shoulder.

Donovan takes a step back. “Please. I love you. I’ve always loved you.

Neither of us has been perfect in our relationship, and I know we can work through this.

Stormy, get in the car with me,” he says, voice all command.

“You’ve upset your entire family. If you want to embarrass yourself, fine.

But don’t drag us into your reputation meltdown and?—”

“Don’t you dare,” she cuts in.

She’s trembling with volcanic rage, and I’m scared she might kill this man with the bat she has tightly gripped in her hand.

“Stormy,” I mutter, bringing her back to reality, “don’t fuck him up.”

I let out a laugh, and Donovan takes a step back like he’s scared she might.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Stormy says.

His gaze hardens. “Your parents and sister are worried. Get in the car now.” His voice tightens, and he tries to command her like she’s an animal.

“You’ve already caused enough drama and damage.

Now you’re living in this dump with someone so young.

Talk about robbing the fucking cradle. Are you okay? Did you have a mental breakdown?”

“That’s enough,” I say, moving toward Stormy and grabbing the bat in my hand. Now I’m getting pissed. “Say what you gotta say, but if you keep disrespecting her, I’ll make sure you disappear. We don’t like people from out of town round here,” I warn. “You have no idea where the fuck you are.”

Stormy stares at him, and his face is unreadable, but I see the pulse in his neck kick up a few notches.

“I get it,” he goes on, watching Stormy.

“You’ve made your point. This circus? It’s over.

We both know where you belong. Your clients are furious.

Your father is disappointed. We already have a story scripted to erase it all.

” His words are picking up speed now, the smooth performance starting to fray at the edges.

“But whatever this is, between you two, it’s over.

You made a mistake, and you’ve had your moment.

You have the attention you’ve always craved.

Now it’s time we get back to what matters the most. Us, our family.

” He holds out his hand to her, pleading with his eyes.

“This? All of this? It’s temporary. You’re not meant for this kind of life, and we both know it.

Come with me, baby.” He says it slow, like he’s the only one here with a functioning brain cell.

By the way he carries himself, I know he’s used to everyone shutting up and following his orders.

Stormy steps forward, putting her arm around me, and I hold her tight.

“No,” she says. “I’m done pretending, and I’m done letting you talk to me like you own me. You fucking don’t.”

“Stormy”—he gives her a tilt of his head like she’s being a stubborn kid—“this has always been your problem. No one will ever be enough for you. You burn down everything around you.”

Her eyes widen, and then she bursts into laughter. It’s cruel, but I find it delicious, considering this man deserves all her wrath for what he did.

“I don’t believe anything that comes from your mouth anymore. Look at you. You’re pathetic.”

He flinches. It’s the tiniest tic, but it’s enough for me to see she’s landed a hit where it hurts.

“Does he even know you, Stormy? Does he know who you really are and that you?—”

“Yep,” Stormy interrupts, her voice clipped. “He knows me better than you ever did, which is so fucking sad. You had me, Donovan, and you lost me. That will be your biggest regret.”

“Damn,” I whisper, not because I’m shocked, but because I’ve never seen someone burn a man to the ground with nothing but the truth.

I watch her—shoulders steady, chin lifted, every word precise. She’s not breaking; she’s choosing herself this time. And, God, I’ve never been prouder to stand beside someone in my life.

Donovan’s nostrils flare, and he swallows hard like he knows she’s right. His fists clench at his sides, fingernails digging hard into both palms. “You can change your mind. I’ll forgive you. Plant a story about you and him and erase it. Call it a PR stunt. We can work through this.”