Page 21 of Hart Breaker

“The weather’s shit,” he answers, glancing at Lo, then Syd.

Syd tosses the throw blanket over the back of the couch before stepping to me and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you Sunday.”

“Um, before then, please.” I titter. “And if the roads are shittier than they were, you shouldn’t be leaving.”

“They’re fine.” Brett rolls his eyes.

“Bipolar Brett’s back,” Lauren grumbles under her breath.

I could kick her in that smart ass of hers, but he doesn’t seem to have heard her.

Brett continues, “Just go slow.”

As soon as they leave, his eyes narrow, and through clenched teeth, he asks, “Where were you last night?”

I shake my head. “We’re not going back to Blue Valley High and the disfunction that two teens in love bring to a table.”

“Answer the fucking question!” he roars.

The fact that him yelling at me doesn’t affect me is comical. This is so Brett in high school.

“You’re fucking ridiculous.”

He points his finger at me. “You were at Harts’ house.”

I point mine right back but speaking evenly, “Syd and I brought Lily Boone’s lost stuffed animal from here to there because she and Boone were at Harts. Hart dropped off Grimes, and Boone called him, asking him to come see if it was here. The roads shut down before we could leave.”

“Bet it broke your heart to stay in his mansion on the lake.”

“I know you may have a hard time understanding this,”—I throw my hands out wide—“but this place is my mansion.”

The way he looks around and huffs pisses me off.

“You need to leave because I?—”

“I told you the roads were shit.”

“And you told my cousin, one of my very best friends, to just go slow. I suggest you do the same.”

“We’re weeks away from becoming man and wife, and this is how?—”

“I’m getting pissed and telling you?—”

“At least you’re getting something, Ry!” he cuts me off.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he snaps.

“Don’t say things you can’t take back.”

“Stop acting like you don’t know he wants to fuck you!”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what Hudson Hart is thinking?” I throw my hands in the air. “You know what? I don’t want to know. What I’d like to know is why my fiancé is acting like he did a month before senior prom when he broke up with me and went out with Gina Thomas!”

“Here we go with you bringing up the past,” he says, acting as if he didn’t start it.

“And here you go, switching the script, acting like I’m the problem.” I open the door. “I need you to leave.”

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