“Where should I start?” I jerk my chin to the overflowing trash can, the sour stench of beer and old food practically radiatingfrom it. “The scent of last week’s leftovers? Or maybe the piles of dirty laundry on every available surface.”
I point toward the low-hanging light fixture that’s missing half its bulbs, the remaining one buzzing like a mosquito. “Mood lighting, very chic. Perfect for creating that warm, inviting ambianceeverybaby dreams of.”
I shift to the wall of glowing monitors, their wires snaking across the floor like some tech horror show.
What the hell is this shit?
“But hey, if Aurora needs a nightlight, at least she’ll have the comforting glow of whatever post-apocalyptic first-person shooter you’re starring in, while drunk, midday.”
My eyes snap back to him, voice dripping with false cheer. “Shall I go on, or are we both clear on why I’m concerned?”
He barks out a bitter laugh, shoulders shaking with the force of it. “Oh, is that what this is? You meet me once and I’m drunk, so that somehow equals deadbeat?” His lip curls. “Bet you’ve got all kinds of assumptions about the asshole in the sweatpants, don’t you?”
Do not look at the asshole’s sweatpants, Georgia.
“I don’t need assumptions,” I snap, jabbing a finger toward the empty bottle graveyard. “You’re making it real damn clear.”
He pushes to his feet, towering over me.
The sudden movement makes my pulse spike, but I stand my ground, aware of all my exits and the pepper spray in my bag.
Kade’s broad chest rises and falls with each furious breath, and for a second, we’re locked in a silent battle—my frustration meeting his fury head-on.
“You don’t know shit about why I’m like this,” he growls. “But that won’t stop you from writing me off, will it? Just check the box. Another fuck-up unfit to be a…”
He trails off and looks away, his chest heaving.
I grit my teeth, every muscle in my body screaming to turn and walk out. But I don’t. Instead, I lean forward, matching the fire in his gaze with my own.
“I don’t write people off, Mr. Archer,” I bite out, remembering all the times people did exactly that to me. “But I sure as hell report what I see. And right now? All I see is a man who’s perfectly content to drown himself in cheap whiskey while the rest of the world picks up the pieces.”
He scoffs, the sound low and venomous. “Yeah? And what do you see when you look in the mirror, Ms. Walker?”
I don’t answer, I can’t.
Not when his words are so close to my reality, I barely keep from flinching. Instead, I simply glare at Kade until he breaks.
“Get out,” he barks.
“Gladly.”
I don’t hesitate. Every nerve in my body screams for the exit, and I’m more than ready to oblige. Snatching my bag from the floor, I shove the file inside and sling it over my shoulder. My spine stays straight, shoulders squared, and despite the trembling in my hands, my steps remain steady.
“I’ll see you at the mediation.” My voice is clipped as I grip the door, glaring at the bare expanse of his chest. “Try to be sober. And wear a shirt next time.”
I spin on my heel, making it two steps before his low voice rumbles behind me, the sound crawling over my skin like a challenge.
“If you’ll be there, I make no promises.”
I’m still wondering what he was referring to when I walk into my rental that night.
The liquor, or the shirt.
Chapter Five
She Has Very Specific Amnesia
The sign for Heart Springs flashes by, just a blip on the highway, swallowed by an endless stretch of land.
