Page 69 of Bad Boy Neighbor

I nod, though they can’t see me. I’m stoked they’re coming. There is no chance in hell I could do this without them.

“That’s my boy! I told you to keep fightin’, didn’t I?” Pa cheers proudly.

“You did, Pa. And I’m glad you guys are coming. I need it.”

We talk for a short while longer as I explain to them what’s involved and the rehabilitation process. Pa is over the moon, talking nonstop until I cut the call short, promising to call them with more details once my head wrapped itself around the enormity of this news.

Outside the office, still not moving from the pavement, I hit dial on Gabriella’s number, hearing it ring out to nothing. Again.

I even called Lana to see if she had heard from Gabriella.

“Sorry, no. Is everything okay, Olly?”

“I don’t know, Lana. I just… she said she’d be there. It’s unlike her to not show up or even answer my calls or text messages. I’m worried something’s happened, especially after last night.”

“Last night? What happened last night?”

A loud sigh escapes me. “For another time, Lana. Call me if you hear from her.”

I can hear the disappointment in her voice the second I say the words. Lana promised to call me back, doing her best to help me track Gabriella down. She’s equally as worried.

With this unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach, I wander the streets, unaware of how far I’ve walked around the city, lost in a sea of thoughts. Each block seems just as strange as the rest, and when I walk past a restaurant, carelessly staring at the patrons, something makes me stop dead in my tracks.

It’s Gabriella… I think.

She looks different with her hair in a tight bun, not her usual mess of curls. Her clothes are so unlike her—a pale pink suit with pearls.

What the fuck is this.

I shake my head, maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. This woman is not the Gabriella I know.

She’s sitting next to Prince Charming, his hand resting on hers and across from an older couple. The woman, blonde, looks a lot like her, and judging by the similarities, I would say it’s her parents.

I stare coldly through the glass window, my face has become rigid, jaw clamped tight, and teeth grinding. Burning rage hisses through my body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence.

The humiliation runs deep within my veins, careful to consume every inch as a reminder of the mistakes I’ve made.

Tell me this is not real.

This is someone else, not the woman you’re in fucking love with.

She glances aside, her expression saddened at the sheer sight of me. I can’t pretend to even listen to any excuse she may conjure up. I begin to walk away, heart in my chest, the pain of seeing her there, with him, when she said she would be with me is too much to bear. It feels like shards of glass stabbing me in every fucking direction.

“Oliver, wait!”

I walk fast, each step fueled by resentment.

How dare she fucking do this to me.

Me of all people.

“Oliver, please.” Gabriella catches up to me, pulling my arm back, careless tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” I question, rudely with hatred. “What exactly are you sorry for?”

“Oliver, please don’t make this harder than it is.”

The nerve she has to stand in front of me, playing the victim once again. I’m sick of her mind games. She doesn’t fucking deserve me, and I refuse to let her walk away without feeling guilty for her pathetic actions.

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