Page 87 of The Harder You Fall (Rixon Raiders 3)

“Don’t matter what you told him. He isn’t going to let this thing go.”

“He has to. I’m done. I’ve moved on. I…” Asher’s infectious smile flashed in my mind. “I’m seeing someone.”

“The white boy JT lookalike?”

“And he plays football,” I teased, trying to lighten the tense mood.

“Damn, girl, it’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Silence lingered over the line.

“He’s a good guy, Shona.”

“Whatever you say. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again,” she let out a heavy sigh. “Listen, I was calling to tell you Jermaine came around asking about you. I didn’t tell him nothing, but I don’t think he’s going to forget you anytime soon.”

“He has to,” I repeated unsure who I was trying to convince more.

Her.

Or myself.

“My life is here now, Shona. He doesn’t know I’m in Rixon. He can’t ever know.”

“Chill, girl. I ain’t going to say nothing. But I can’t guarantee Jesse won’t get involved if he keeps coming around here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, you’re not. But I get it. You had to get out. Stay safe, girl.”

“You too,” I whispered. Shona hung up and I clutched the phone to my chest. Jermaine wasn’t going away. Even though I’d changed my number and told him we were done, he was still there. Haunting me like a ghost.

I didn’t expect Aunt Ciara and Shona to understand my relationship with Asher, but it sucked that I had to constantly defend it to the people closest to me. Aunt Ciara had her reasons, but Asher wasn’t her ex. He wasn’t going to make false promises only to break my heart and leave me bloody and bruised and alone. And Shona… well, she didn’t get it. Where we came from you didn’t date white boys.

Even though their disapproval didn’t surprise me, a small part of me had hoped they would see things from my perspective. That they would at least try to understand what it was like to be an eighteen-year-old falling headfirst for a guy who made her laugh and feel safe and cherished. A guy who wouldn’t bring pain and danger and heartache to my doorstep. But the louder their warnings got, the quieter my conviction became, the two halves of me at war.

Asher wouldn’t hurt me. I didn’t doubt that.

But trying to live in Asher’s world with him, that might just destroy me.

“Not that one,” I said, cringing at the thought of myself in the floral print dress Felicity was holding up against her body.

“You’re right, it’s too… happy.”

“Happy? Are you saying I’m not happy?”

She glanced over at me, fighting a smirk, as I lounged on her bed, surrounded by clothes. “Do you think you’re happy?”

“I’m happy with Asher. He makes me happy.”

“You are so cute right now. He’d love it.”

“Don’t you dare tell him I was sitting here making googly eyes. I have a rep to protect. A thunderstorm rep, apparently.”

“I didn’t say you were thunder but you’re definitely not sunshine either.”

I poked my tongue out at her and picked the silky dress—the one I’d worn to the Bennets’ party—off the pile. “I could wear this again.”

“No, he’s already seen you in that. Besides, that was parental approved. This is New York. You need something… more.”

“More, right.” I rolled my eyes, letting the soft material flutter through my fingertips, remembering how Asher’s eyes had widened when he saw me in it. The way his breath had hitched. The hunger in his expression.