Page 3 of The Heart Breaker

Her scent hits me a second later, making my jaw tighten. Vanilla and smoke. Too sweet, too sharp, and suddenly all I can breathe.

I realize I’m still staring, caught on that crack in her armor, when my phone buzzes and snaps me out of it. I tear my eyes away, dig it out of my pocket, and glance at the screen.

My stomach drops instantly.

I lock my phone and shove it back into my pocket, then finish the rest of my drink.

Then I shoulder past her and push through the crowd toward the front door. Cold air hits me the second I step outside, stripping the last of her perfume from my lungs and clearing my head faster than the vodka ever could. I shove my hands into my pockets and keep walking.

If she wants to stand there defending Westbrook’s golden boy, that’s on her.

I’ve got bigger shit to deal with than Aurora Prescott.

God knows she’s already cost me enough.

2

AURORA

Pride is a funny thing.

I wanted Cole Ellis to be wrong about Chase. Wanted it so badly I forced myself to believe things that never quite added up. The distance, the missed calls, the halfhearted texts that always came hours late, the way Chase’s attention seemed to slip away whenever we were actually together.

When my phone sat silent for days, I blamed practice. When his answers went short and cold, I told myself he was tired or busy.

Everyone said long distance was hard. You had to adjust, compromise, trust. That’s what I told myself every time my gut twisted at the little things he brushed off.

If I’m being honest, I trusted him because I needed to. Because if Cole was right about Chase, that meant I’d been an idiot for months. It meant I ignored every flag, every gut feeling, every instinct that screamed this isn’t right.

I’m not sure what’s worse. The idea that Chase played me, or the possibility that Cole knows me better than I want him to.

And now here I am. In the doorway of Chase’s room, clutching a bottle of his favorite whiskey, watching my boyfriend fuck another girl.

Our three-year anniversary. That’s what today was supposed to be.

Three years.

I wore a new dress, shaved every single part of my body, spent so long practicing how to surprise him, and this is what I get.

I’m frozen in place, my eyes snagging on his shirt pooled on the floor beside her dress. His bare ass as he thrusts into her. His moans. The familiar, ugly sound of them—the same ones he’s made a hundred times for me.

It takes them five seconds to notice me standing here. Long enough for something in my chest to twist tight before the hurt burns away and something hotter takes its place.

“Shit,” Chase mutters, scrambling to shove the girl off his lap, covering himself with a pillow. His eyes—those stupid blue eyes I loved—go wide when he finally realizes I’m standing at the door. “Aurora?—”

The girl scrambles for the sheet, yanking it up to cover herself, her cheeks going bright red as her eyes dart between us. They’re wide, panicked, a flicker of guilt swimming in them. I can’t tell if she even knows who I am.

Did he tell her he was single? Did he bother mentioning my name at all? Or maybe she knew and just didn’t care.

Not sure which one’s worse.

I swallow hard, shame and bile burning at the back of my throat, and one thought keeps pounding through my head.

Cole was right. He warned me. And I laughed in his face. Told him he didn’t know what he was talking about.

God, I’d give anything to be anywhere but here right now.

Chase just looks annoyed he got caught, not even bothering to fake an apology. Not for the girl half-naked beside him, not for the fact he was inside someone else ten seconds ago. Meanwhile I’m still standing in the doorway, clutching a bottle of his favorite whiskey like an absolute idiot—stuck in the moment when I thought surprising my boyfriend on our third anniversary was a good idea and ended up looking like an idiot.