Page 23 of Exes and Oh Hell No

A rock.

And there’s something wrapped around it.

My throat tightens as I kneel, my heart hammering as I reach for it.

My fingers brush against rough stone, and I flinch.

A rubber band holds a piece of folded paper in place.

My stomach twists as I tug it loose.

The scent of a Sharpie burns my nose, fresh and overpowering.

I swallow hard, my hands trembling as I smooth out the paper and read the message.

“THIS ISN’T OVER!”is written in all caps.

The air whooshes from my lungs.

My vision blurs at the edges, black spots creeping in.

The paper slips from my fingers, floating to the floor like a feather.

Oh, God.

Someone just threw a rock through my bedroom window with a threatening message.

My hand shakes as I lift my phone to my ear.

Ford is going to lose his fucking mind.

9

FORD

My steps are slow as I trudge up Gram’s porch, carrying the bag of food.

My muscles are tense, already bracing for whatever fresh hell she’s about to unleash.

I blow out a breath as I unlock the door and step inside. “Hey, Gram.”

She’s in the living room, the TV blaring while her knitting needles steadily move in her hands.

I nearly choke on a laugh when I see what’s on the screen.

The Golden Girls.

Jesus Christ. I just talked about this with Harper.

I turn to her with a smirk. “Didn’t this show end years ago?”

“I can stream it anytime.” She stares at me intently, critically assessing me.

I school my features because she sees too damn much.

She always has.

“How was your night?”

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