Page 66 of The Wingman

You would look amazing with purple hair, Georgia said.

I pause, pulling down the purple one to inspect it. That impulsive, devilish urge inside me wakes up. I feel like doing something wild.

Why?Kit asked last night with disdain, and I feel a sharp twist of resentment in my stomach.I liked your hair before.

Anger rises in my throat as I stare at the jar.

There’s no good reason to dye my hair purple. It isn’t going to get me ahead in my career, it’ll probably be hard to maintain, and there’s no guarantee that it’ll look good.

And yet excitement trickles through me, making my stomach dip. It’s like the dress Georgia found for me—I won’t know until I try.

Besides, I think it’ll make me happy, and maybe that’s enough.

Maybe I’m not the old Darcy anymore.

CHAPTER 31

HAYDEN

The apartment’squiet when I get home from beer league, and my eyes land on the shipping box sitting on the table beside the front door.

The sex toy I bought Darcy.

Buying it was a huge mistake, especially after the way we woke up this morning, with my dick practically drilling a hole in her thigh.

I’m not giving it to her.

I drop my bag on the floor, pull out the jersey I got her, and set it on the counter.Thisgift is appropriate for our relationship.

Whatever our relationship is now. My mind wanders to last night, to the way she looked when I opened her bedroom door and saw her crying, and pain twists in my chest.

Kit didn’t know what he had with Darcy Andersen. He didn’t value her. He didn’tseeher, and now he thinks she’s coming back?

These thoughts I’m having about her should make me feel guilty, but they don’t. He never deserved her, and the only guilt I feel is that it took me eight years to realize that.

In the kitchen, I warm up food. Then I flipthrough sports highlights from the night while glancing down the hall, listening for her.

The lights are on, her sneakers are in the front hall closet, and her keys are on the table by the door, but she hasn’t come out to say hi like normal.

She yanked the covers over herself this morning like she was uncomfortable.

My gut sinks.

Definitely not giving her the toy now.

“Darce?” I call, walking down the hall. Her bedroom door is open and the room is empty, but there’s a sliver of light from beneath the bathroom door.

“Hi,” she says from the other side of the door. I can hear her pacing around the bathroom.

Something isn’t right. Is she avoiding me because of this morning? “Let’s watch some TV.”

“Um.” The footsteps stop. “No, thanks. You go ahead.”

There’s a worried, distracted edge to her voice, and I frown, folding my arms over my chest. “I got you a present to say sorry about this morning.”

Fuckingliar, my brain whispers. I got her the jersey because I want to see my name on her back.

“Just leave it on the kitchen table and I’ll see it in a bit.”

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