Page 122 of That's Too Pucking Bad

My blood runs cold. I’ve always known what kind of man my father is, but this? This is something else.

“I’ll handle it,” I say, my voice flat, not even knowing if I believe it myself.

He nods, satisfied. “Good. I knew you would.”

The silence hangs between us, thick and suffocating, as I stand there, holding his phone, feeling like I’ve just been thrown into the deepest waters.

I glance up at my dad, and I know. I fucking know. He won’t stop until I completely cut her off. But the question is: will I?

At this point? I have no choice.

Chapter 26

I stare at the screen, the stupid fucking text blinking back at me. Again. And again. I can’t stop reading it, like maybe the words will change or make more sense, but they never do. They just keep digging into me, each letter carving out a new piece of my anger.

Your favorite dick: Remy, whatever this was. It’s done. I’m done. We had our fun, but it’s over. I need focus on shit that matters, and this isn’t it.

Your favorite dick: Don’t text, don’t call, don’t talk to me. I’m serious. We’re done.

It’s so fucking cold. So final. As if I’m nothing more than some casual fling he can toss aside. I’ve read it a hundred timesalready, and every time it hits me the same way. I feel like a fucking fool. I can’t believe I let him get under my skin.

I dial his number.

It rings once... twice... then goes to voicemail.

Zane Coburn. Leave a message.

“Fuck you,” I growl, slamming my hand down on the table. “Fuck you, you piece of shit.” I hang up before I can say more, and that’s when the rage really starts to build up. I don’t know what I’m angrier about. The fact that he ended it with me like I was some fucking afterthought, or that he won’t even pick up the goddamn phone.

I pace around, breathing heavily, my fists clenched.

I can’t deal with this shit anymore.

I grab my phone again and shoot Maya a text.

Remy: Where are you?

Maya: The Reaper’s are having a party. You coming?

I almost laugh at the irony of it. The last thing I want is to be at a party with a bunch of masked assholes, but I need something. I need to figure this out. I need to get my head on straight, and that means seeing him.

Remy: Yes, of course. See you there.

I start getting ready, ripping through my closet like everything is a goddamn mess. Nothing seems right. I’m too angry to think straight, but I manage to throw on a tight, reddress that hugs my curves and makes me feel like I can conquer the world.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I don’t recognize the person staring back at me. My hair’s a mess, my eyes are red, and I’m pissed off. I don’t care. I throw on some heels, slick on lipstick, and grab my jacket. I’m going to the party, but I’m not going there to have fun. I’m going there for answers.

By the time I walk into the venue, the place is packed, loud music thumping from every direction.

I push through the crowd, my eyes scanning for Maya. And there she is, leaning against the bar with a drink in hand, looking like she owns the place. She grins when she spots me.

“Damn, you look hot,” she says, eyeing me up and down.

I give her a half-smile. “Thanks. Where’s the bastard?”

Maya raises an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Who?”

I can’t help the way my blood boils. “Zane. Where the hell is he?”

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