Page 86 of Pucking Secret

I stare at her, so angry I can hardly think straight.

“Get out,” I hiss.

She freezes and blinks, clearly stunned. “What?”

“I said, get out,” I say again in a louder voice. “I’m done, Mom. I’m done with your criticisms, your cruelty, your coldness… all of it. Get out of my house and don’t try to contact me again. If I ever decide I want to talk to you, I’ll reach out.”

Her nostrils flare her. Her face flushes.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she cries. “You want to cut me out of your life? I’m your mother! You can’t just decide to be done with me.”

“Actually, I can,” I insist coolly. “I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own choices. I have a good life here, and I’m not going to let you ruin it. Besides, you’re the one who cut me out of your life first. When I was pregnant and needed you most, you could’ve actually been a mother to me and gave a shit. You chose not to, though, so this is on you, not me. This is karma, Mom, and it’s been a long time coming.”

“You’re really going to choose that two-timing son of a bitch over your own mother?” She stares at me in disbelief. “You’re going to fuck up your life all over again, Stacey.”

“What is or isn’t going on with Owen is between me and him.” My voice is steady. “It’s none of your goddamn business. Now, I’m not going to tell you again. Get the fuck out of my house.”

She doesn’t move for several long moments. Finally, she lets out a huff of breath.

“Let me say goodbye to Millie…” she begins, turning for the stairs, but I shut that argument down immediately.

“No, leave,” I order. “Millie’s been through enough and I’m not going to let your toxicity near her ever again.”

She stares at me, clearly shocked, but then grits her teeth and storms past me to the door. She slaps Owen’s letter in my hand as she goes by.

“You’re going to regret this,” she says in a venomous hiss. “When that man proves you wrong, don’t come crying to me.”

I keep my chin up and don’t move a muscle until the door slams behind me. Once I’m alone again, all my bravado vanishes and I let out a shaky breath as my knees quiver. That picture of Owen and that woman seems burned into my brain and I can’t stop thinking about it. There has to be some explanation for that article… I refuse to believe he’d lie and not tell me he was in a serious relationship like that.

My heart racing, I dig out my phone and shoot Lilah a quick text, asking if she can come back quick and watch Millie for a little longer.

I have to go talk to Owen, face-to-face, and figure out what exactly is going on.

When I get to Owen’s apartment building, clutching his letter in my hand, it’s nearly 7pm. A part of me thinks I should’ve just called, but I need to talk to him face-to-face because, as much as I hate to admit it, Mom’s words have gotten to me. I need to look Owen in the eyes when I ask him to explain so I can know for sure if he’s lying. Walking through the building’s main entrance, I head to the elevator only to find that it’s out of service.

Of course it fucking is.

With a huff, I take the stairs two at a time, fueled by adrenaline and anxiety.

Reaching his floor, I’m out of breath and sweaty, but I continue down the hallway toward his door. Just as I’m reaching it, I hear his voice echoing from inside his apartment. He sounds agitated and angry, and he’s speaking louder and louder until I can hear him clearly when I’m standing right outside.

“Fine, FINE! I’ll end it!” Owen’s words cut through the air, sharp and final.

My heart lurches. End it? End what? What’s he talking about?

“You will never have to worry about Millie ruining anything!”

I can’t understand what he says next - there’s a ringing in my ears, and it’s like I’m underwater, his voice sounding muffled and indiscernible. It feels like the floor drops out from under me and I stagger backward, away from the door.

He is talking about me. About Millie.

Oh God, what have I done?

Panic sets in. I can’t do this. I can’t face him if he’s about to break my heart all over again. Tears stinging my eyes, I turn and start running back down the stairs, my chest tight and my breathing ragged.

As I round the corner at the end of the hallway, I collide with someone, nearly falling onto my ass. The letter slips from my fingers, fluttering to the floor.

“Hey, aren’t you Stacey?”

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