Page 73 of The Wildest One

The reasoning behind it.

The reality that I was facing.

A reality that came shooting down from the top of my screen in the form of a notification—the subject of the email raising enough anxiety within me that I abandoned Beck’s message, clicking on the email. Once it was loaded, my eyes scrolled thewords so fast; I went back to the beginning to read it again in case I’d missed something.

But it turned out, I hadn’t missed anything.

It was all spelled out.

And each syllable made it even harder for me to breathe.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck,fuuuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Ginger rushed in from the hallway, coming over to the bed, where I was sitting. A towel was wrapped around her body, and another was over her hair like a beehive. Her skin was streaked with white lotion that hadn’t been rubbed in all the way. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

“I am.” I handed her my phone so she could read the email. “When Dad called while we were walking into Musik, I thought this was going to be delayed … and now he’s telling me it’s not.”

Her eyes grew wider with each line of text. “Oh, hell no.”

I could taste the acid in the back of my throat. “I know.”

She set the phone on the bed and took a seat in front of me. “What are you going to do?”

I shook my head, and when that didn’t feel like enough, I shrugged.

“Babe, you kinda need to know. Or have a plan.” Her hands went to my cheeks. “Or at least have an inkling of an idea because …” Her head tilted, like a dog’s when you were speaking to them. “God, I do not envy you one bit.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m being real. That’s why you love me.”

“At this moment, that love is being challenged.” I clutched the base of my throat.

I didn’t know what was going to take me out first—the heart attack that was on the verge of happening or the nausea since my stomach was threatening to empty the lunch we’d had delivered.

“I—” My voice cut off when my phone began to ring. I held my breath as I looked at the screen. “Shit.”

“Who is it?”

“My dad.” I could barely swallow; my heart was racing so fast. “This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

“Oh, but it can. You’ve yet to hear what he has to say.”

“For the record, I don’t love you anymore.”

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. “Right.” She lifted my phone and gave it to me. “Answer it.”

I swiped the screen and brought the cell up to my ear. “Hi, Dad.”

“I’m assuming you saw the email?”

I drew in as much air as I could hold, which wasn’t enough. “Yes.”

“Jolene … we need to talk …”

Me

I wish I weren’t just getting back to you at 2:00 a.m. Anyway, I really hope your phone is on silent and you’re sleeping. If you’re free tomorrow night, let’s grab dinner or something.