Page 207 of The Dixon Rule

DIANA

I didn’t come here to hurt you

JANUARY

I MISS SHANE SOMETHING FIERCE. I DIDN’T GET TO SPEND THE HOLIDAYS with him because I needed to be with Dad and Larissa’s family and then visited my mother in New York. I managed to squeeze in a four-day visit to Heartsong after New Year’s, but it wasn’t nearly long enough. Now I’m back in Meadow Hill and he’s three hours away, and it sucks.

The new semester starts tomorrow, and I’m spending my Sunday night on the couch, watching old footage of cheer routines from past nationals. The Briar squad sailed through regionals, so once school’s back, we need to kick it into a new gear to prep for nationals. I’ve been working with our coach, Nayesha, to fine-tune our routine. Nayesha and our choreographer handle the choreography itself, but they value my input, and the three of us are meeting tomorrow before practice.

Since my thermostat keeps shutting on and off for no reason—I definitely need to bring my dad in here, stat—I’ve got my heavy comforter curled up around my head, making me a human burrito. The muted glow of the TV casts shadows across Skip’s fish tank. I didn’t even notice it had gotten dark out, but now I realize that the world has grown eerily quiet. Niall is probably in an orgasmic cocoon of silent bliss right now.

When a wailing meow suddenly cuts through the silence, I jump so hard that my blanket burrito nearly rolls over the couch.

Fuckin’ Lucy. How did she get out again?

I don’t want to unravel myself, but I always have Priya’s back, even if it means dealing with her obstinate feline. I throw the blanket off and head for the entryway. When I hear footsteps beyond my door, I realize Priya is on top of this.

I’m already talking to her as I open my door. “Hey, I’ll help you grab—”

I freeze.

Percy’s standing in front of me.

Anxiety grips me like a vise, my breath catching in my throat.

“Diana,” he starts, but I’m springing to action.

I slam the door, but Percy’s equally quick. He wedges a black boot in before the door can latch.

“Just wait—”

“No,” I say angrily. “Go away. You’re not allowed to be here.”

Oh my God, how did he even get on the property?

“I’m not going anywhere,” Percy spits out. “We need to talk.”

Only a sliver of his enraged face is visible, distorted by the doorway as I keep trying to close the door on him. He pushes at it, and my pulse races. I push back, and the wood rattles loudly as we both battle for door domination.

“Stop it,” I order. I’m scared now. “You need to leave.”

“Not until we talk.”

He elbows the door again, the force causing it to shake on its hinges.

“No,” I repeat, while my heart thunders against my ribs. Why is he here? And why is he vibrating with rage? When I saw Wendt and my lawyer, they assured me the case was moving along smoothly. Percy’s first hearing is scheduled for this week, and Wendt said that when she spoke to him, he appeared resigned. Defeated, even.

Right now, he looks like a powder keg waiting for a spark.

“You need to go to the DA,” Percy is saying. “You need to get this fucking case dropped, Diana.”

“I couldn’t even if I tried. The DA chose to go forward—”

He gives the door a hard shove, winning the battle and sending me stumbling backward.

He’s in my apartment.

Pulse shrieking, I waste no time running to the living room. Maybe I’m overreacting, maybe he’s just here to talk, but the last time he tried to talk, he punched me in the face. Fool me fucking once.

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