Page 59 of Just a Friend for the Lion

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My chest feels like it might split open.

Anger. Shame. Grief.

And something so sharp and deep it doesn’t even have a name.

I turn, legs trembling butdetermined.

My chest is so tight I can barely breathe, like my ribs are holding back a scream.

My throat burns.

My jaw clenches.

My stomach twists so violently I think I might throw up.

And still—I keep moving.

Because if I stop, I’ll fall apart right here.

Right in front of the woman who thinks I’m one of Carter’s women. One of many.

Right in front of the man who pities me.

Right in the middle of the too-shiny showroom where I thought I might get a piece of closure or at least a crumb of honesty.

Instead?

All I got was wrecked.

“Stupid,” I whisper to myself, voice breaking. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why’d it have to be you, Carter?”

Golden-eyed bastard.

Why’d it have to feel so real?

My heels click too loud on the polished floor, echoing the sound of my own heartbeat.

I push faster, tears falling now. Quiet, hot rivers I can’t even bother to wipe away.

I make it through the doors.

Out into the air.

And then—a sob escapes.

Then another.

And another.

Until I’m gasping. Sobbing. Unraveling in the parking lot like some tragic heroine in a romcom with no punchline and no HEA.

But even as the world tilts and my knees threaten to buckle—I don’t stop walking.

Chapter 19

Carter

Later That Day

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