Page 59 of Lucky Penny
“You looking for something?” I ask. Not the words Iwantto say, but I have to play nice.
His glassy eyes scan my body, sizing me up. “I’m here for Fia.Whothe hell are you?” He cocks his head back, and I fold my arms across my chest.
So this is how it’s gonna be.I have to laugh, shaking my head ever so slightly.
“It’s the middle of the night,buddy.” I’m not going to lay my hands on him, but I’m also not letting him anywhere near the house. “Let me guess, you’re Brett?”
His eyes narrow, but I hold up my hand before he can get another slurred word out. “Want to talk to Fia? Come back when it’s not the middle of the goddamn night.”
In the daylight, I’d let Penny rip into him. He wouldn’t be left standing.
Brett laughs, shaking his head. He takes a step toward the door, and I put my arm up, blocking him.
He’s close enough to smell. Shitty liquor on his breath and weed clinging to his clothes. Bile rises in my throat as I realize this is who Fia was with for the last few years.
“Try again.” I nod at his car. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, turn your ass around and leave before you do something you’ll regret.”
Or I do.
Every muscle in me begs for the old ways—clenched fists and broken noses. My jaw’s tight enough to crack a tooth right now, but I don’t move.
Not because he doesn’t deserve it—and more. But because I have someone who might still believe I’m worth a second chance. Someone whose trust I already shattered once. This is my second chance—and I’m holding on to it with every fucking thing I’ve got.
“Bro, I don’t know whoyouare, but my girlfriend’s in there. I’ve been trying to fucking reach her all day. She blocked my number, and I want to talk.” His finger’s wavering, but he’s pointing at the house. How the fuck did he even drive here?
“And I’m telling you that you need to get off my front porch.” My voice is low and cold because I’m just about over this thick-skulled pretty boy.
“You gonna make me?” he sneers.
“I’m giving you an out, man, just go home,” I say it slow and steady, every syllable a warning.
He moves.
Brett lunges forward, head down, all brute force and zero thought—trying to shoulder past me toward the door.
I pivot, grabbing his wrist mid-charge, and twist his arm behind his back so hard something might’ve popped. I don’t care.
He grunts, body collapsing down, his knees buckling until he’s kneeling on the sagging wood porch. My other hand grips the back of his hoodie, dragging him lower until I’m huddled over him.
You don’t get through three years in prison without learning how to deal with guys who have pent-up aggression.
Tank snarls on the other side of the door, and this shit head looks like he’s regretting afew things.
Good.
“Jesus, fine! Let me go!” he says through gritted teeth.
“I’m going to say this one more time.” I let his arm go, only to grab the front of his hoodie and yank him upright until we’re eye-to-eye, gazing right into those deadbeat eyes.
“You have never been, and never will be, good enough for Fia Hanson.” I spit out every word, making sure they’re ingrained. “So erase her from your memory. Burn the idea of her out of your mind.”
His jaw clenches, but I don’t care.
“If I see you anywhere near this house again, I will take you apart piece by piece. You think you’ve hit rock bottom? Try me, and I’ll show you what hell actually feels like.”
I shove him hard, and he stumbles back, arms flailing, nearly tumbling down the porch steps. The last of his cocky smirk falters as he catches himself before hitting the pavement.
“Stop calling her. Stop texting her,” I yell, sure everyone in this neighborhood can hear me now. I want humiliation to seep into his bones.
