I turn to find myself face to face with the guy I’ve been trying to avoid all week.
And he’s here for Miranda. As always.
14
RIDER
My brain short-circuits.
What is Gabby doing here?
And what’s with that look in Miranda’s eyes? Andwhyis she calling me baby? We have never done pet names.
This can’t be good.
Based on the weird vibe in here and the hard expression on Gabby’s face, she knows exactly who Miranda is.
My mouth opens, to say what, I’m not sure, but then I close it because, fuck, this is awkward.
Smiling wildly, Miranda leaps off the desk and throws herself into my arms.
What the hell? Why is she so clingy? After the talk we had last week, I thought she understood what I wanted—space. Lots of it. When I didn’t see her on Halloween, I thought she’d gotten the message loud and clear.
But then she called me today, begging for a ride because she got stranded at the school where her father works. I didn’t want to be an asshole and blow her off, so here I am even though I have a ton of homework to do.
Hurt flashes in Gabby’s eyes before that blank mask I’m so familiar with slides into place. She mutters, “Excuse me,” and scoots by me like she has no idea who I am.
Fuck. I literally beg her to forgive me over the weekend, and aside from the group convo we had at the house when we took the paternity tests, she hasn’t uttered one word to me.
Not. One. Word.
I fucking saw Olly text her all morning about the number of times Poppy has taken a shit, but Gabby won’t unblock me. And thanks to her efficiency with that online babysitting spreadsheet and group email updates, we haven’t had much of a reason to interact. Well, besides the fuck-off email she sent me today when I asked if she’d unblock me.
The need to make things right with her has been overwhelming. I’m not sure why now, of all times, this feels so pressing, but ever since our talk in the Target parking lot, it’s been weighing on me.
Blowing out a breath, I peel Miranda off me. “I’m leaving, so if you want a ride, get your stuff.”
I head out without waiting for her. Predictably, Gabby is nowhere to be seen when I enter the hall, but my pea brain is starting to piece together the puzzle. This must be where she works. I heard her and Bree talking about her job at a school.
Why she’d want to work with these assholes is beyond me, but if anyone could make a go of it at snob central, Gabby could. After watching her work her magic on Poppy and a house full of dumbasses, that’s one woman I’ll never underestimate. She’ll probably have these jerks eating out of her hand in no time.
The ride to Miranda’s is tense. She’s no longer smiling.
“Rider, come on,” she whines. “You didn’t really mean all that.” She waves her hand like what I want doesn’t matter.
“No, Ireallydid.” My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “We’ve had fun, Mira, but I need to focus.”
She runs her finger along my neck, and I resist the urge to slap her hand away. “You always get so grumpy during the season. How ’bout we just fuck on the weekends? We’re both stressed, and we’ll blow off some steam together. No other obligations required.”
I don’t point out how we’re not supposed to have any obligations beyond using condoms when we screw, an agreement she said was “perfect” when we first started doing whatever this is.
“As tempting as that sounds,” I lie, because being with Miranda right now is suffocating, but I don’t wanna hurt her feelings, “I think we should just be friends and go our separate ways.”
Between classes, practice, homework, games, and a damn baby at home, I really can’t handle one more thing. Thank God we’re supposed to get the paternity results any day now. It’ll be one thing off my plate. But I’m not comfortable sharing anything about Poppy with her, so I keep that shit to myself.
An angry laugh spills out of her. “Just friends? Rider, we haven’t been ‘just friends’ in years, and you want to start now?”
I’ve avoided relationships for years to avoid drama, and yet here we are.
