Page 263 of Vegas Heat

I slap a hand over my mouth as the door clicks shut behind him, and I sob into my palm.

Tears course down my cheeks as I try to catch my breath, but I can’t seem to breathe. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to breathe again.

He said it’s the last thing he wanted to do but that hehadto do it.

I call bullshit.

He walked away.

I think that’s the biggest shock of all. He chose the game over me. Overus.

And the worst part is that he didn’t even admit it.

It’s fine if that’s what he really wants. I’m not going to chase him down, to try to stop him—to beg and plead with him.

But to blame my relationship with my dad is just the coward’s way out. To bring up his own father and throw his loss in my face is such bullshit.

I’m hurt, and I’m angry, and I’m feeling my emotions in a way I’ve never felt them before. They’re some level beyond strong. They’re ferocious, and at the same time I’m somehow totally numb. None of it makes any sense, and I can’t process what just happened.

He just walked out on me. He proved he’s like everyone else in my life. He made me believe he loved me and cared about me, but the truth is that he was always going to choose himself over us.

My mother did it my entire life. She made me believe my father did it, too, and even though I’ve slowly learned over thelast three years that he didn’t—notreally—those scars still run deep. It’s a different type of pain, one that forces a person to construct walls tall and strong, walls that take a while to come down, walls that are firmly in place for maximum protection.

One thing’s for damn sure.

I won’t let those walls down again.

I was stupid to give myself over to someone who plays games for a living. It was another example of me showing my age, of my immaturity when it comes to relationships.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go.

I can’t face my father right now. It’s too fresh, too painful. Too hard. I know there’s no one who should shoulder more of the blame for everything that just went down than myself, yet somehow the fact that Cooper just ended things with me feels very much like it’s my father’s fault.

I don’t know where he stands with Joanie. I could leave this office, go downstairs, try to find her…or I could just sit tight.

Am I supposed to drive her home?

God, this is such a mess, and I feel so very alone right now. I can’t call Mia. Cooper is the one I’d lean on, but he just walked out on me. My dad would come next in line, and then Joanie.

I could call Kaylee, but she’ll choose Cooper’s side in this. She was his friend first.

My only option feels like Justin, but as I pick up the phone, I find I can’t force myself to hit the call button.

I need a minute to process what just happened.

I need a minute to cry. To mourn.

I need a minute to remember who the fuck I am.

I collapse on the couch as I set my hand over my stomach.

I got through my entire life up to this point essentially on my own. My mother was there. She provided what I needed, but nothing more. And I got away when I could. While from the outside it might look like I’ve grown dependent on my father, thetruth is that I just like living with him as I’ve gotten to know him. I’ll be done with college in another few months, and once I start working a job of my own, I’ll move out. That was always the plan.

Except moving out now means I need to find a two-bedroom apartment instead of just one. It means quite possibly I’ll be raising a baby on my own—a baby Cooper has spent years yearning for while I’m barely old enough to legally drink alcohol.

It means Cooper will be in my life one way or another, and the thought of having to see him and interact with him and be around him for the sake of the baby but not getting to bewith himhas me crying all over again.

Maybe I’m not as strong as I think I am—as I wish I was.

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