Page 93 of Perfect Pursuit

I take a giant step back, maintaining a distance between us. Her luscious lips part. Just as she’s about to speak, I cut her off. “You’ve been lying to me.”

“But, my mother?—”

“I highly doubt something that serious is happening with Helen or I’d have heard about it. You must think I was born yesterday. Was it an excuse to buy new clothes? Handbags? Jealousy over your friend’s newfound wealth finally get to you?” I don’t know where these words are coming from, but the impact on Fallon is tremendous.

Her body lurches back with each statement until I’m afraid she’s going to trip on a large stone. Fortunately, I’m saved from having to grab her when she shakes herself into awareness. Instead of answering my questions, she asks me one in return. “You’re never wrong, are you, Ethan?”

Something curdles in my stomach, but I attribute it to cutting out the part of my heart that’s rotting. “This is the kind of stupid choice a kid makes, Fallon. Not the type of sound decision reasoned out by the kind of woman I want to be with. It makes me wonder if what we had was just some down and dirty sex we needed to get out of our systems.”

Fallon’s expression shows me nothing. Instead, she stares at me, eyes tracing over every feature. Not saying a word. Uncomfortably, I finally hiss, “What are you doing?”

Her voice vibrates with something I can’t quite name. There’s a hush in the nature swirling around us, as if it’s waiting for the crescendo of our implosion. When Fallon speaks, I’m certain people miles away can hear her despite the faintness of the words. “I hope you’ll remember this moment as your before and after for the rest of your life. Of what you could have had with me and what you threw away by accusing me instead of asking me why I worked here in the first place. Because that never occurred to you, did it, Ethan?”

Without waiting for my answer, she races to the driver’s side of her car, gets in, and engages the locks. Something like dread slithers through my gut when she turns over the engine and backs out of her spot—almost running over my foot in the process.

It could be seconds, minutes, fuck I might have been standing there for hours before I got into my own car. Reaching for my phone, I see there are ten missed messages from Thorn. All of them say the same thing.

Thorn:

Whatever you do, DO NOT confront your girl.

My head slams back against the headrest. Too fucking late.

And after what I said just now, there’s no way I can call her mine.

Not anymore.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Heaven, hell. Some days they’re mirrors of one another.

Especially if you live in Manhattan during rush hour.

—StellaNova

“My uncle did what?” Austyn’s fury is palpable. Before I can answer, she pulls out her phone and sends a text.

“Who were you messaging?” I ask wearily. It’s only been a few hours since Austyn let herself into my apartment

“My mother. I told her under no circumstances was she to share she’s on her way here.”

I glare at her. “Austyn?—”

She shrugs unrepentantly at having shared the information with her mother. “Would you have kept it from Helen if it was my mother lying in that hospital bed?”

I can’t lie. “No.”

My best friend leans over and clasps my hand. “You’ve been there for me for the best and worst times of my life. Let me return the favor. Mama won’t go see your mother until the end, but you’ll have her nearby for support.”

I stare at our entwined fingers, remembering when I met the girl who lived a few houses away in Kensington, Texas and knew she was going to be my best friend. At the time, Austyn was dressed in torn jeans, Converse Chucks, and a T-shirt that proclaimed she loved Brendan Blake. Her long hair was in a mass of braids which was pulled away from a face with fierce blue eyes. Her first words, after asking my name, were, “What kind of music do you like?”

I nodded down at her T-shirt and her smile burst across her face. “That’s a good enough place to start.”

“What about you?”

She cocked out a hip and grinned—something about her very attitude, those eyes, and her smile vaguely familiar but then I recall Mama pointing out Austyn’s mama the other day. I brushed aside my musings as she said, “Want to come with me to a concert at the park? It’s Founder’s Day.”

I stared at her blankly. “What’s Founder’s Day?”

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