Crashed(book three)(120)

I pump my fist out into the air and shout. I squeeze my head in both of my hands as the adrenaline hits me at full force, hands tremble and f*cking tears well. I can’t even process a thought. I know CJ is talking but I can’t hear him because my heart is pounding in my ears from the adrenaline hitting me like it does at the start of a race. I raise a hand to run it through my hair but stop midair to pound on the steering wheel before scrubbing at my face because I’m so overwhelmed … so inundated with f*cking relief I can’t keep a single thought straight, except for one.

It’s not mine.

I didn’t f*ck up a poor soul’s life by tainting it with my blood.

By being born to a manipulative bitch like Tawny.

“You okay, Wood?”

It takes me a minute to swallow and find my voice. “Yeah,” I sigh. “Better than okay. Thanks.”

“I’ll have Chase issue a press release for—”

“I’ll cover that,” I tell him, wanting nothing more to than to feed the vultures a taste of crow and get their f*cking obtrusive cameras out of our lives for a bit. Let Rylee adjust to my f*cking crazy life while we find our footing.

There I go again. Thinking about finding our f*cking footing and the future and shit with her. My f*cking kryptonite.

Motherf*cker.

And it hits me.

Rylee.

I need to tell her.

“Thanks again, CJ, I gotta call—I gotta go.”

I hang up and immediately start to dial Rylee but my hands are shaking so badly from the adrenaline racing through my blood, I stop for a second.

And then I realize I want to end this once and for all before I talk to Ry. I want to call her with the slate clean so I can tell her this is all behind us. Baby, Tawny, lies—everything is over and f*cking done with.

I take a deep breath as I dial the number that used to be so familiar but now just makes my blood boil.

“Colton?” I like the fact she’s surprised, that I’ve caught her off guard.

Time to play ball.

“Tawny.” My voice is flat, unemotional. I don’t say anything else. I want her to squirm. I want her to wonder if I know or not. She’s ballsy enough to lie to my face, let’s see if she’s gonna keep up the f*cking charade or lay her cards on the table.

Because f*ck if the paternity test isn’t my ace in the hole.

“Hi,” she says so softly that I can’t really figure out if she’s being timid or trying to sound seductive.

Either one has my stomach churning.

I chew my cheek, trying to figure out where I want to go with this conversation because as much as I want to make her suffer, I just want her f*cking gone. Sayonara, adios, the whole f*cking goodbye. She clears her throat and I know the silence is killing her.

Good.

“Colton,” she says my name again, and I have to bite my tongue, let her suffer. “Did you need something? I—I’m surprised to hear from you …”

“Really? Surprised?” The sarcasm drips from my voice like f*cking motor oil. “Now why would that be?”

She starts to stutter out words but none of them get past the first syllable. “Save it Tawn. Just tell me one thing. Why?”

When the f*ck did she get like this? When did she go from my college sweetheart to the conniving, manipulative bitch on the other end of the line? What the f*ck did I miss?

“Why?” she asks, drawing the word out. We’ve been friends for so long, I can tell she’s fishing. She’s looking for a clue so she can take it and twist it and manipulate it into whatever I’m going to say that suits her best.