Page 66 of The Pucking Wrong Man

“Montana, I?—”

She was shaking her head before I could get the words out. “I’m so sorry, Ana,” she whispered. And she did sound heartbroken. But there was also something different in her gaze, a little glimmer of doubt in me that hadn’t been there before.

I slumped and stared at the floor for a second, accepting my fate. If I’d lost Montana, if she was unwilling to step in for me…well, then that was it.

Picking up my meager bag, I followed her through the rows of cots toward the front desk. I could feel curious gazes, but they didn’t bother me.

No one who was watching me really cared.

I glanced behind me though, thinking how sad it was that even a place like this, who took in any woman and child who walked through its doors...didn’t want me.

“Here,” Montana said suddenly, reaching behind the front desk and pulling out...a Sonic burrito.

I stared at it for a second, trying to will the tears away.

I’d cried for the rest of the night on my cot. I should be all cried out by now.

“Thank you,” I finally whispered in a choked, haunted voice. I took it from her hand and started toward the door.

“Be careful out there, Anastasia,” she said urgently after me.

Maybe it would have been the polite thing to do to glance back at her and acknowledge what she’d said. But all I could muster was a hand thrown over my shoulder.

It was...bright outside, and I squinted because the sunshine of the morning seemed completely at odds with my life.

I started toward the bus stop on autopilot. I hadn’t bothered to think of an action plan last night because I’d been so sure that Montana would help me—that she would believe that the pills weren’t mine.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and finally glanced behind me at Haven. There was no one standing in the window watching after me. No one was running down the steps to bring me back or tell me there had been a mistake.

I bit down on my lip, telling myself I wasn’t going to shed another tear for that place.

Someday, someone was going to be watching me as I left. Someone was going to care enough.

I had to believe that.

I was somewhat calmer once I made it to the dance studio. And by somewhat, I meant I was at least only inwardly crying instead of the sobfest that I could have been participating in.

I danced my heart out, pushing myself to the limit until my leg actually gave out on a turn, and I crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Everyone stopped dancing and the music abruptly cut off.

My face was beet red in embarrassment as I dragged myself off the ground, pretending like it didn’t feel like a knife was embedded in my leg.

“Oops,” I murmured in humiliation.

Dallon was watching me, his head cocked as he stared. He was teaching class today, because that was my luck. I hadn’t spoken to him since he’d skipped out on our date—evidently I hadn’t been worth an explanation.

But of course, today he would decide to talk to me.

“Why don’t we call it for today, ladies,” he said, his eyes not leaving mine.

The girls were chattering and tittering with each other, whispers of my name filling the air as they judged me for what had just happened.

I ignored them, like I always did when my name was on their lips.

But today it was a little bit harder.

“Anastasia, if you could stay behind for a moment,” Dallon said when I’d almost made it to the door. He pushed his hair back, but the sight of his muscles did nothing for me this time.

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