I’m pissed at a lot of things.

And I’m done ignoring them.

Ripping open my car door, I climb inside with one goal in mind.

It’s time I stop running.

It’s time to face the truth.

27

ASHLYN

My damp hair hangs in ropes down my back as I shove my car into park and stomp toward the Taylor House. By some miracle, there isn’t a party tonight. The house is dark. Empty.

Part of me wonders if it’s because Theo knew I’d wind up here after Logan’s message if Logan had the decency to tell his best friends about our break up in the first place.

And it’s a big if.

But if Logan did tell them, Theo probably knew I’d cause a scene. And if he’s adamant about anything, it’s keeping the drama away from the Taylor House, so he can focus on random women, copious amounts of alcohol, and hockey.

Well, fun fact, boys. I’m about to rain fire and brimstone on the Taylor House.

You ready?

I yank my hair into a high, messy bun without giving a shit what it looks like and bang my fist against the front door.

When it stays closed, I start yelling, “Logan fucking Cameron! Open this door right now!” I slap my hand against the hard surface again. “I’m not even kidding, Logan! You broke up with me in a text message? Are you freaking kidding me right now?!” My hand aches as I pound my fist against the door again. “I’m not leaving until you have the balls to––”

The door swings open, and I stumble back and straighten my spine.

“Can you keep your voice down?” Colt looks around the porch and over the dark street. “You’re gonna wake up the neighbors.”

“I don’t give a shit about the fucking neighbors, Colt,” I seethe, ignoring his mussed hair, lack of shirt, and the same freaking gray sweatpants from the first time we met in his kitchen. “Where’s Logan?”

He rubs at his tired eyes. “Logan?”

“No, I’m looking for the tooth fairy,” I spit. “Why the hell do you think I’m here?”

With an exhausted sigh, he squeezes the back of his neck, his bicep bulging as he answers, “He isn’t here.”

“Where the hell is he? You know what?” Without waiting for an invitation, I storm inside the house like a raging bull, ready to tear apart anything and everything standing in my way from confronting Logan and demanding an ounce of respect to end our relationship the way it deserves.

In. Freaking. Person.

“Sure, come on in,” Colt mutters under his breath, the door softly clicking closed behind me.

“Where is he?” I repeat as I scan the dark family room and empty kitchen. Logan’s nowhere in sight.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Colt lifts one shoulder into a shrug. “Look, I dunno where your boyfriend is. I went to bed and woke up with you pounding on the door and throwing a fit on my porch like a toddler.”

“Throwing a fit? Wow. Thanks, Colt. Way to validate my feelings. And he isn’t my boyfriend anymore,” I add, folding my arms and tucking my hands into the crooks of my elbows to keep them from shaking. But I’m fuming. Hell, I’m more than fuming. I’m burning up inside.

Colt’s eyes widen in surprise, which only pisses me off more.

“Did you know?” I demand, marching closer to him. But he doesn’t retreat. If anything, he looks ready to go to battle, daring me to push him when it’s clear he hasn’t been sleeping well.

Little does he know, I’ve already been pushed past the edge. And right now? I’m falling, blindly reaching for anything to keep me from crashing into the inevitable truth.