Page 43 of The Heart Breaker

None of it is.

Dad gambles. Drinks. Gets pissed when he loses, then comes home wanting to take his anger out on someone else. Growing up, any time I had cash, he found it. He justified it with some bullshit about how I “owed him”. I learned to hide it. Eventually taught Sophie where to stash hers. But the bastard always finds a way. He takes whatever he can get his hands on, and then disappears until he’s burned through every cent.

My jaw clicks again as my teeth grind. I try to unclench and calm down, knowing she’s safe at her friend’s house… but I can’t.

I hope he’s calm by the time she goes back.

I hope he doesn’t?—

Who am I kidding? Hope doesn’t do shit. Not with him.

I push off the wall, running a hand through my dripping hair, heading back into the locker room to finish getting dressed, anger and guilt climbing up my throat.

Because while Sophie’s dealing with this… I’ve been wasting brain space on Aurora.

This is the reminder I needed. I shouldn’t be thinking about her. Should feel sick to my stomach for wanting her after what she did back in high school.

I shove the door open and step back into the room. The guys all look up, but I keep my head down and keep moving, hoping none of them ask what that was.

I need to forget her once and for all.

I need to go out tonight, find someone—anyone—who isn’t her, and drag them back to my place. I need to fuck until myhead goes quiet and whatever the hell Aurora lit up inside me finally burns out.

15

COLE

In theory, Halloween parties are supposed to be fun. Booze, music, hot girls wearing skimpy costumes.

Except it never really lives up to the expectation.

The music is usually trash, the alcohol is cheap, and half the girls are already drunk enough to trip over their own heels.

No idea why I bothered showing up, knowing all that.

Maybe because I needed something to stop my brain from replaying Sophie alone in that house. When she texted saying Dad showed up and dragged her home from her friend’s place, my fists actually burned with the urge to put a hole in the wall. That crawling anger’s been lodged in my gut ever since. She swore he didn’t hit her, that he was just angry, but that did nothing to ease the knot in my chest.

Fuck. I came here to stop thinking about it. To get drunk. To get laid. To get even a minute where my head isn’t chewing itself alive.

I tug the hood of my sweatshirt up over my head, already sick of the skull paint itching at my face. There was no way in hell I was showing up in an actual costume, so I grabbed the first thing I could find—black face paint—and smeared it on until it sort oflooked like a skull. Took longer than I thought it would, but it works.

I spot Logan off to the side of the room, away from the rest of the guys, stretched out on the couch in fake fangs and a tight black shirt with the top buttons undone, red smeared at the corner of his mouth. He’s talking to some guy dressed as a pirate, his lips curling into a flirty grin as he leans closer to him.

The rookies have taken over the kitchen, red Solo cups scattered everywhere as they crowd around the counter in the middle of a game of flip cup.

I shove past them, grab the nearest bottle, pour whatever’s in it into a cup, and take a long swallow. It burns going down, but that’s the point. I want the sting. I want anything that’ll cut through Sophie’s voice in my head or?—

Her.

I stop cold when I spot a flash of long blonde hair across the room.

Hair I’ve had wrapped around my fist.

The alcohol settles hot in my stomach as my gaze drops down her body. The black dress she’s wearing barely covers her ass, pulled tight over her hips, showing off those long legs in high black heels. Dark wings are strapped to her back, her hair falling over them in soft waves.

Fuck.

Every guy in this place is noticing her, and, fuck me, so am I.