Page 113 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

success.

* * *

I’m exhausted when the van pulls into the driveway of Leah’s home.

Ryan’s car is gone, and I feel slightly at ease knowing I won’t have to

cross his path again. I’m not envious of his gaining Farrah but more

so that he had Leah first. She’s not a trophy to pass around at the

game or anything, but the thought of him trying to pull some

seductive coup to gain her back does overwhelm my mind more than

it should.

I wave to the guys as they head back down the road, the shop

seemingly closed up for now and the house lights on. It’s past lunch,

nearing dinner time, and while I would love to whip up something

delicious for us to eat tonight, I realize shortly that isn’t going to

happen.

The kitchen is a wreck.

Pans, pots, and various dishes are thrown through the house while

most of the glassware is shattered into a handful of sprinkles that

litter the floors and countertops. My heart sinks, fearing the worst,

but the muddled sound of noise upstairs captures my attention by

the throat.

I rush upstairs, breaking through her bedroom door, and find the

bathroom light on. I leap through space in two bounds and nearly

collapse in relief at the sight of Leah in the shower. She’s on the floor,

curled up with her back to the corner of the marble tile, and her

arms hug her knees to her chest. She doesn’t look up, but I know

she’s aware I’m here, her wrists and hands cut with little scratches

that make my body ache even more.

Stripping out of my shirt, I leave my jeans on and come closer to her

under the lukewarm water, her body stiff as I snake my arm over her

shoulders to keep her close.

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