Dear Life(66)

“Nothing. Go home. Have your lawyers call mine.”

“I’m not going—”

“Becca, come check on the cookies, I think they’re done but I’m not sure,” a deep voice booms from inside the apartment, causing Rebecca to squeeze her eyes shut.

I know that voice.

“Rebecca?”

“Don’t.” She shakes her head and tries to push the door shut again. “Just leave, Jace.”

Not going to happen. I’m not putting up with this anymore. I stop her from closing the door, but this time, I push the door all the way open. Just as I walk into her apartment, Ethan, my teammate and my best friend comes out into the living room, wearing an apron, a fucking apron, and holding a tray of cookies. What. The. Fuck.

“Jace.” He looks to Rebecca whose eyes are cast down and then back to me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, moving closer to him. I’m seeing red.

“Jace, stop.” Rebecca stands in front of me and places her hand on my chest.

Fury, anger, pure unadulterated rage is speeding through my veins. Not because Rebecca is with another man, I don’t give a shit about that. My best friend, the man I consider a brother, the man who knows about Rebecca’s attempt to get Hope back, the man who has watched me fucking cry over the possible loss to Alex and June . . . that man stands before me in Rebecca’s living room, clearly not his first visit. The. Bastard.

“Ethan!” I yell this time. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He sets the tray on the card table set up in the dining area and tosses the oven mitts down as well. “Look, I was going to tell you, man.”

“Tell me what?” I charge toward him but once again, Rebecca steps between us, and puts her hands on my chest. “What were you going to fucking tell me?”

I’ve got to give credit to him, he doesn’t back down in the presence of my rage, instead he steps forward, ready to talk. He’s calm. Calm. The fuck. I’m the complete opposite. I’m the epitome of rage, wanting to ram my fist through someone’s head. Preferably his.

“We’ve been seeing each other, man,” he says calmly. Christ, he’s wearing a fucking apron, a polo on underneath, and his hair is parted to the side like some kind of whipped jackass. Who the hell is this man and what has he done with my best friend?

“You’ve been seeing each other. How long?” I grind out.

“A month,” Rebecca answers back.

“A month?” My hands fly to my hair, and I start pulling on the strands. “You’ve been seeing her for a month and didn’t say anything to me? Especially once she came back to my place and asked for Hope?” I pace the living room, trying to comprehend this entire situation.

As a best friend, how could he do that? How could he sit on my couch with me and listen to my tortured words, commiserate with me over my situation, and even offer guidance, knowing fully well that he’s banging my baby mama. Yeah, it breaks the bro code. What garbage did he feed me in his feeble attempt to support me?

Jace, you made a huge sacrifice, one of the biggest sacrifices a person can make. You have to give yourself time to heal. The fucker.

I don’t get it. I don’t fucking get it!

“This is bullshit,” I shout, grabbing one of the dining room chairs and tossing it against the wall, not even caring about the damage.

“Man, let’s sit down and talk about this.”

My fury turns on Ethan. Keeping my distance, I point at him and say, “Fuck you and fuck talking. You’re dead to me.” Turning to Rebecca, I say, “Drop the request to get Hope back because if you don’t, I swear on my fucking life that I will make the rest of your living days a nightmare. You can quote me on that.”

Without another word, I storm out of her dilapidated apartment, past the worn and torn doors, and down the metal steps leading to the parking lot. There is no fucking way my daughter is living in this shithole. Reaching into my pocket, I grab my phone. Need. Her.

“Jace?”

“Hollyn,” I breathe out. “Pack a bag and head to the airport. There will be a ticket waiting for you.”

“What? Jace, I can’t—”

“Please. I need you, Hollyn. I can’t explain it over the phone. I fucking need you.”

“Okay,” she answers without hesitation. “I’ll pack right now.”





DAISY


“Brakes! Daisy, brakes!” Carter shouts into my ear as I fiddle with the hand brake, my fingers pulling back quickly. As we come to an immediate stop, I realize I forgot to hit the rear brakes as well when the motorcycle starts to lift and Carter flies into my back.

“Oh goodness.” I fly into the front of the bike, my helmet-covered head hitting the controls and speedometer. Carter’s muscular frame pushes me even more forward.

From around my back, Carter leans forward, puts the bike in park, and quickly turns it off. With his superior strength, he balances the bike for both of us. I feel . . . exhilarated. I just drove a motorcycle. Eep! With Carter right behind me.

“Off.” One word, that’s all he says, and I start to get nervous. I’ll be honest, I’m not the best driver, and trying to get me to understand how to drive a motorcycle, yikes, I might have given Carter a few minor heart attacks. I’m betting this last little stint will be the end of my motorcycle driving days, especially since I almost ran us into a fence.