Page 156 of F*ckboys

I pause, anger simmering under my skin. He's right—Fallon deserves better. Better than the man I am, better than the life I can offer her. If she knew half the things I've done in the course of my work, she'd probably want nothing to do with me. Although her recent kidnapping escapade gives me pause. Maybe there's even more to her than meets the eye, which is saying a lot. Either way, she deserves perfection and I ain't it.

But regardless of how hopeless things feel right now, nothing changes the fact that she is mine. A better man might let her go, release her in the knowledge there's someone out there better for her. But I'm not a better man. And I don't give up what's mine without a fight.

The ring sits in its box in my condo, glinting under the dim light like a promise broken.

I told myself it was for the best. Then I told myself that Fallon would come to her senses and realize we're meant to be together. But it's been weeks now, and with each passing day, she slips further out of my reach.

I can't lose her. I won't.

Maybe this was her plan all along. To break my heart as revenge for when I broke hers. Maybe she thinks she's won, that she's broken me. But she has no idea what I'm capable of. No idea the lengths I'll go to in order to claim what's mine.

Always and forever, for better or for worse. Even if I have to drag her kicking and screaming to the altar to make it so.

Chapter 86

Fallon

Aksel's first call comes an hour after I tell him it's over. I stare at his name flashing on my phone, heart pounding, fingers itching to answer. But I can't. I won't.

I call Mom instead. I'm not sure why, because she's not exactly reliable, but for whatever reason she's the one I reach out to in the most fraught moments.

She picks up on the first ring. "Fallon? What's wrong?"

Her voice is ragged, scratchy from years of chain smoking. I picture her in her dim living room, curled up on the moth-eaten sofa with a cigarette dangling from her lips, her signature floral mu'umu'u wrapped around her bony frame. She's scrawny, subsisting on a life-long diet of mixed candy, strong coffee, and a nightly dessert of vodka, valium and orange juice.

"It's over with Aksel." My throat tightens around the words.

Silence. Then a long exhale of smoke. "Come right over. I'll be waiting for you."

She hangs up. I pace the length of my bedroom, anger and grief warring inside me. Aksel destroyed us, and shattered my heart into a million pieces. I should hate him.

But I can't. I love him too much.

I quickly grab some things and get to her place within the hour. Her hug smells of nicotine and Chanel No. 5, a discordant combination that is uniquely her. Her apartment smells like mothballs and spilled vodka. But I'm not here to judge, I'm here for my mommy.

I cling to her, tears burning my eyes. She smoothes my hair and murmurs soothing words.

When my sobs quiet, she pulls back. "I'm sorry, hon. I know how much you loved him." Her eyes are soft with sympathy.

I stare at her, stunned. She isn't gloating. Isn't saying I told you so. Who is this woman? "You—I didn't realize you even knew how much I—."

She smiles gently. "I may not have approved of Aksel since all the way back in high school, but I know he made you happy. And that's all I ever wanted for you, Fallon. It sounded like you two were really working things out this time around."

Fresh tears fill my eyes. She wipes them away with her calloused, bony thumbs.

"You're going to be okay," she says. "This hurts now, but the pain will fade. You're strong, Fallon. Stronger than any man. And there will be others who will love you for who you are. People in Aksel's world come with conditions, and sometimes you need to cut your losses, like I did. But I'll be here for you either way. You've got this, my strong girl."

I cling to her words like a lifeline, hoping with all my heart that she's right.

Aksel

Carson stares at me, his eyes wide behind his glasses, disbelief etched into every line of his face. Our hands are covered in flour and dough, in an attempt to create our own homemade pizzas from scratch. Not that I'm in the mood for tomfoolery, but my siblings insisted, a transparent attempt to get me out of this funk. And they don't know the half of it, and just think Fallon and I had one of our usual tiffs. Flour is smeared across Carson's face, the aftermath of a minor food fight between him and his sister.

"You did what?" My siblings pause, freeze-frame, swiveling in my direction, mouths agape.

I rake a hand through my hair, the familiar gesture doing nothing to ease my frustration.

"I broke off the engagement with Fallon. Well, technically she did, but it was mutual in the circumstances."

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