Mandy: I miss you already! Let’s go out for drinks tonight!
We leave tomorrow morning for the wedding, and I should be packing. But another school year has come and gone, and we’ve already been out for six days. That’s six days since I’ve seen Mandy, by the way.
Harper is already over at Bella’s house since our flight is early in the morning. Travis will be late tonight as he’s heading out with his boys after OTAs to recap what they did all week, but he assured me he’d be sleeping in my casita with me tonight.
And so I have no plans for now. I’m still waiting to hear back from the district about my interview, but I know they had a couple other candidates to interview. I’m sure it’ll be soon—after all, if they do hire me, they’ll need to replace me at my current position, and now’s the time to snap up someone good.
It’s as I’m replying in the affirmative to Mandy’s text that my phone starts to ring.
It’s the district office calling. I recognize the first three numbers.
“Hello?” I answer.
“I’m calling for Victoria Hartley,” the voice on the other end says.
“This is she.”
“Hi Victoria, this is Dawn Patterson calling.”
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Patterson. I’ve been looking forward to your call,” I say, trying not to put too much hope into my voice.
“After interviewing five candidates for the reading specialist position, we’ve agreed that you are the best fit for our program, and I’d love to extend the job offer to you.”
I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet. “That’s wonderful,” I say, keeping my tone professional despite the urge to squeal.
“We’ll have HR get in touch with you. Your position will officially begin on Monday, July sixteenth, so feel free to use the transitional period to clean out your old office. Most of the department takes June for vacation, but we’ll be back in full swing mid-July for you to dive right in.” She says some other stuff but I’m too excited to listen.
“Thank you so much!” I say. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”
“Same to you. Have a great month and we’ll see you back in July.”
We hang up, and I do a little dance around my casita before I text Mandy back, deciding I’ll tell her in person.
Me: Yes, for sure. Name the time and the place.
Mandy: Gridiron at seven? Dinner and drinks and we can hang until the boys are done.
Me: That sounds perfect.
I head over in a Lyft since I’ll plan to head home with Travis a little later. I spot Mandy by the bar, and I plop onto the barstool beside her.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she says with a grin, and I laugh. I order a margarita, and as she sips her drink and I wait for mine, she asks, “What’s new?”
“I got the job,” I blurt.
She gasps. “What?”
“I just got the call right before I texted you! I got the job!” I’m squealing, and now she’s squealing, and the bartender drops my margarita off and I can already tell it’s going to be a fun night of celebrating.
We laugh together about the memories we’ve made at Stratford, and we both get a little weepy when we talk about how we won’t be working together next year. We each order another round, and then we order food. The margaritas keep coming, and we catch up on the current status of our relationships. She and Jaxon are taking it slow even though he doesn’t want to, and she’s been to his special club a few more times.
She tries to talk me into going, and I’m nearly drunk enough to agree.
We’re laughing about me being tied up in some swing contraption when the doors open and Owen walks through them.
His eyes land on mine, and my laughter dies as my claws start to emerge.
I have no idea how the hell I’m going to spend six days around him in the Bahamas.
He walks slowly through the bar and winds up beside me. “Hi,” he says.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss.
“I was hoping to run into you. And, predictably, here you are.”
My hand flies to my chest. “To me? Why?”
“To stop you from taking that asshole to the wedding.”
I shake my head. “We’re together, Owen, and you’re just going to have to be okay with that.”
“Bullshit. I was here that night he was all over some other chick, remember?” I hate him for bringing it up. It was weeks ago at this point, and Travis proved it well enough to me that she didn’t matter to him right up against the brick wall in the alley behind this place. And many moments since then.
“And I’m pretty sure it was you who saw him proving she didn’t matter out in the alley,” I retort, and he looks a little flustered at my reply.
So that shadow was him. Dick.
He shakes his head with a little disgust. “No, what I saw was a desperate man trying to hold onto you. Or maybe you’re the desperate one trying to hold onto the big tough football player.”
I stand and it’s like second nature when I extend my hand and slap him right across the face.
His eyes widen in surprise, but I’m so damn sick of him. “When are you going to get over it? It’s over, Owen. I don’t love you. I don’t know if I ever did now that I see what actual love feels like.”
“Fucking jersey chaser,” he mutters.
“Excuse me?” I say.
He shakes his head arrogantly. “You’re just after him for his money and his position. Anybody can see that.”
“I’m after him for his monster dick,” I hiss, and Mandy laughs beside me. “He knows how to use it better than you ever did with your teeny weenie.” Okay, so maybe I’m a little drunker than I realized.
He rolls his eyes and calls me out on it. “That’s the tequila talking. You know what I’m packing.”
“You’re an idiot. You’re the one who shouldn’t go to the wedding. And will you freaking give me my ball back already?”
“Oh are we on that again? I told you, you can have it if you go as my date to the wedding.”
“I hate you,” I say. “I would never go with you.”
“Where’s your boyfriend tonight? Fucking some other punt bunny?”
“Fuck you, Owen.”
He offers a cocky grin. “You’d like that again, wouldn’t you.”
I reach my hand up to slap him across the face again, but he’s quicker than me this time. He grabs my wrist, and he fists it tightly as he roughly yanks it away from his face. He’s never been physical with me before, but I’ve also never slapped him across the face before.
“Ow!” I yell, trying to pull my wrist from his grip. He just hangs on tighter.
“You’re never getting that ball back, bitch,” he hisses in my face, and then he drops my wrist and storms out of the bar.
I cradle my wrist in my other hand. “Fuck, that hurt,” I say.
“Are you okay?” Mandy asks.
And that’s when I start to cry. “No,” I whimper.
The bartender—who missed the entire exchange—brings me over some water and a bag of ice, and I press it to my wrist carefully. It’s not broken or anything, but it’s red where he was fisting it tightly, and I have a feeling it’s going to bruise by morning.
The crying turns to sobbing thanks to the tequila. I’ll have a bruised wrist in all my sister’s wedding photos, and that asshole ex of mine who caused it will be in all of the same photos. I’ll have to smile and play nice with him since he’s the best man and I’m the maid of honor, and I’ll have to do it all while knowing he’s never going to give me my ball back.
I hate him, and the hate is so strong that the sobs get even uglier.
“Let’s get you home,” Mandy says, and just as we call the bartender over to settle up our bill, the door opens again and half the Vegas Aces squad comes walking in.
Leading the pack is the man who has completely captured my heart. He spots me crying by the bar, and he beelines over to me.
“What happened?” he demands, and I just start crying harder as his arms come around me. Now it’s tears of relief that he’s here—the comfort I didn’t even realize I needed. Everything feels a little better just from seeing him, but as he pulls me against his chest and buries his face in my neck, I know this is where I want to stay. Forever.
“Who did this to you?” he murmurs softly into my shoulder.
“Owen,” Mandy blurts behind me.
He stiffens at the mention of my ex’s name, and he pulls back. His jaw works tightly back and forth, and then he presses his lips softly to my forehead before he looks at Mandy. “Get her home safe, okay?”
“Travis, wait,” I yell, but he ignores me and stalks toward the exit. Cory, the closest guy standing beside him, tries to stop him, too, but he heads out the front door of the bar to my futile screams trying to stop him.
Table of Contents
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