I put the phone away without responding. Caging the monster in my chest, I take one step toward Scarlett. Only a blonde student blocks me with an eager smile.
“Professor O’Rourke, I had a question about?—”
“Not now.” It comes out like a growl. “Make an appointment.”
Her smile collapses, and I don’t regret it because all I care about is Scarlett.
But my little Ford slips out the door, and all I can do is watch her go. I have to know who got her all frazzled. Whoever text torpedoed her in the middle of the day knows she had a class.
It was on purpose. Someone is trying to mindfuck her. And that makes me furious.
I feel the familiar leash of an addiction spiral tightening.
Chapter 20
Scarlett
Idon’t even remember leaving the lecture hall. One moment, I’m staring at Dr. O’Rourke dreamily, sans tongue hanging out like Vienna, and next, I’m spiraling from a cyber-attack on my phone. Now I’m outside in the hallway with my back pressed to a cold marble column, clutching my phone like it’s a live grenade.
When I open it back up, I assess the damage in numbers.
Twenty-three missed calls. Forty-one texts.
All from Pierce.
There are even group chat messages from his friends that I was somehow added to.
Where are you, Scarlett?
Pierce is worried sick.
Pierce wants to talk to you.
Why did you leave him?
Don’t ignore us.
Answer the phone.
Go home!
We know where to find you.
Besides the sheer volume of them and the way they grow more aggressive, the texts make it sound as if Pierce is a victim. And not the jerk who cheated on me and thenbackhanded me.
My stomach churns. He doesn’t get to be worried. Not after what he did. Not after a proposal on one knee with the perfect ring, followed by a betrayal when I didn’t say yes. Didn’t do as he asked.
I duck into the nearest bathroom before I fall apart completely. The lights hurt my eyes, and the mirror confesses how wrung out I look. I’ve handled people bleeding out in the ED better than this. By my trembling jaw, bloodshot eyes, and beet-red cheeks, I worry Pierce was right. Maybe I can’t handle school.
The thought alone makes me grit my teeth.
Fuck, if I’ll let that asshole ex of mine win. I can and will do this.
I call Regan to vomit-rant and get everything under control. I push away that I use her as a crutch, that I’m weak for needing my friend instead of dealing with the emotional turmoil on my own. Pierce expects me to think that way. He would love it if I isolated myself from my best friend or even my dad because they’re wise to Pierce and don’t sugarcoat his emotional abuse.
Regan picks up on the first ring. “Hey, we’re waiting for dispatch instructions for a call. Everything okay in the new apartment?”
A tiny laugh escapes me, breathless and broken. “I’m at school. And I’m…I’m not okay.”