The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(115)

“Dad will look after you.” I smile.

“Will he, though?” Christopher widens his eyes.

“Come back in the house, boy. I’ll stitch you up,” Dad teases. “Got a needle and thread in the first aid box.”

I bite my lip to stop myself laughing out loud.

“There is no way in hell you are touching my fucking head, you maniac. I need a specialist plastic surgeon. And don’t call me boy!” Christopher yells.

Dad laughs harder as he holds Christopher up by the arm. He’s still woozy and maybe a little concussed. “You’re a bigger fucking idiot than I thought.”

I go back to the cow and kneel down beside her. Everything should progress with her as planned now that the calf has been turned.

I could take Christopher to the hospital myself . . . but I won’t.

They need this.



It’s 11:00 a.m., and I am freshly showered. I’ve done a load of washing and am waiting for Christopher to get back from the hospital. Dad called me while he was getting his stitches put in. He’s fine, and they should be home soon.

I have one week to make Dad see in Christopher what I do. I’m just not sure exactly how to do that. It took me living with Christopher for three months to finally see his true colors.

And what beautiful colors they are.

Knock, knock sounds on the door.

Why is he knocking? “It’s open,” I call. I pull the clothes out of the dryer and into the basket and walk out into the living area and stop in my tracks.

Regi is standing there.

The air leaves my lungs. This is the first time I’ve seen him since he broke my heart three years ago.

He’s older, broader . . .

“Hello, Haze.” He smiles hopefully.

I frown, too shocked to speak.

He steps toward me. “You look . . .” He swallows a lump in his throat. “Beautiful.”

“What are you doing here?” I frown.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“I think about you all the time.”

I hear my angry heartbeat in my ears. “Don’t.”

“Do you ever think of me?”

“No,” I spit.

I mean, I did . . . every damn day, until I met Christopher.

Not anymore.

“I miss you . . . ,” he whispers.

“What?” I screw up my face.

“I was young, Haze.” He shrugs. “I didn’t know what I had.”

The door bangs, and Christopher walks in. My heart does stop this time.

Fuck.

He looks between Regi and me. “Hello.”

“Hi, babe.” I smile. “This is Regi. Regi, this is Christopher, my fiancé.”

A frown flashes across Christopher’s face before he catches it. “Who are you?” he asks Regi.

Regi tilts his chin, angered by my introduction. “I’m Hayden’s childhood sweetheart. Her first love.”

Oh no.

Christopher raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got a fucking hide, coming here.”

“What does that mean?” Regi frowns.

“I think you owe Hayden an apology.”

“For what?”

Christopher glares at him and steps forward. “You want me to kick your ass to remind you, you gutless prick?”

Regi steps back.

My heart swells with love for Christopher, my knight in shining armor.

“I’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Regi spits.

“One,” Christopher says calmly.

My eyes widen . . . what the hell? He’s counting him down?

“Two . . .”

“Christopher,” I stammer, “just leave it.”

“He owes you an apology, Hayden,” he snaps. “I want to fucking hear it.”

“I’m not apologizing for being young,” Regi snaps. “It’s none of your business.”

“Hayden is my only business.” Christopher grabs him by the shirt and hurls him out the door. He throws him down the five steps. “You had your fucking chance, and you blew it,” he yells. “Don’t try and ruin mine. You stay the fuck away from her, or you’ll have me to deal with.”

Regi looks up at the house in shock. His chest is rising and falling as he struggles for air.

“Do you fucking hear me?” Christopher warns him.

Regi nods, and with one last look, he marches off toward his car as he acts tough.

I walk out the front, shocked, and I turn to see my father standing beside the door. He’s heard the entire thing.

My eyes are wide. I’m shocked to my core. “Dad . . .”

A trace of a smile crosses Dad’s face, and he winks. Without a word he turns and walks off toward the house. “Dinner is at six,” he calls.

I look to my man, all pumped up and angry, and I smile down at him. “You are going to get so lucky tonight.”

“About time,” he huffs as he marches past me into the house. “I fucking hate that guy.”

The screen door bangs hard, and I smile proudly.

That’s my man.

A week later

We sit in the boarding lounge of the airport. We had the best week, and although my parents aren’t happy with me moving, I think they understand what I see in Christopher.