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few drinks in him, it’ll be the same.”

“But it won’t,” Mike speaks up.

My eyes cut to him. “I was talking to my sister. Not you.”

He draws in a deep breath and I see I’ve wounded him again. That shouldn’t feel so good, but it does. Maybe because I’m bitter knowing that, if ever there was a time I could’ve used the comfort of having a real father in our home, it’s now. Instead, I get stuck with this piece of shit.

“Please,” he begs, sounding so broken and pathetic it makes me want to leap down these steps and tackle him on the cement. He doesn’t get to slip in and play this role, doesn’t get to confuse Scar into thinking he’s changed.

“I tried calling,” he rushes to say. “A few times you answered, but I didn’t know what to say so I just said… nothing. I tried again on Scar’s birthday, thinking I finally found the nerve to actually talk to you girls, but you didn’t pick up that time. I figured it was probably because you didn’t recognize the number.”

It’s in this moment that all the mysterious ‘unavailable’ calls finally make sense. Still, a few phone calls don’t make up for having to put up with his B.S.

“We’ve got enough to deal with without having to look after you,” I snap, feeling the sting of angry tears pooling in my eyes.

Mike’s shoulders rise and fall when he breathes deep and I swear it looks like he’s in pain seeing me like this, but that’s not possible. He’s never felt anything for me but resentment.

“I promise I won’t be in the way,” he says sheepishly. “And I’ll—I’ll clean up after myself, help with Scar if you let me, and I’m working on getting a job.”

I scoff when he lays that one on me. How many times have I heard that one before?

“I’m serious, Blue Jay.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap.

He throws his hands up with hope of calming me, and then changes his tune.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. We’ve got a long road to being okay, but I am serious this time,” he insists. “One of the counselors got me leads on a couple jobs and I’m gonna call and follow up tomorrow.”

I’m not moved in the least, but the feel of Scar discreetly tapping my back means I’m alone in taking this firm stand.

“Please, Blue,” she whispers. “I’m scared what’ll happen if he has to go someplace else.”

I’m mad enough to spit lava right now, but unfortunately, Scar doesn’t understand. She sees the world through a different set of lenses than I do. If I turn him away and he does what I know he’s gonna do—get messed up and prove he’s still the old Mike—she’ll think it’s my fault, think that if I hadn’t been so stubborn it wouldn’t have happened. So, I’m torn.

My gaze flits toward West and I swear he feels me in this moment, feels that I really don’t want to do this, but—

Shit.

“You have one chance not to fuck this up,” I warn. “First sign of your same old bullshit and I’ll have Dusty haul your ass out of here faster than you can give another empty apology. Do you understand me?”

Grateful, he nods.

“I understand, but there won’t be any need for that. I mean it. I’m gonna do right by you girls this time,” he promises, easing past me to step inside.

When I meet West’s wary gaze, I’m full of dread, knowing I’ll regret this later. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. After all, today represents the story of my life—always stuck between a rock and a hard place. So much for easing back into business as usual.

In true Blue Riley form, there was literal shit waiting on the back porch to welcome me home.

Fuck you too, Cypress Pointe.

Seems you’re still the bitch I know and hate.

Chapter 31

WEST

The gym’s loud and crowded, and we have Pandora’s constant reminder posts about tonight’s game to thank for that. She’s been on a roll since school’s started back this week. Typically, girls’ basketball doesn’t get the same fanfare as the guys’, but based on this turnout for game one, that might not be the case this season.

We arrived a little early to grab good seats, and within ten minutes of getting settled, Rodriguez walks in looking like a cult nightmare in her usual all-black attire. She spots us and makes it a point to sit on the opposite side of the bleachers. She’s never liked us, and we’ve never thought much about her.

Until the rumors about her possibly being Pandora started.

Who the hell knows if that’s true, but I’m resigned to keeping my distance from her crazy ass.

“You both owe me for this shit,” Dane announces to Sterling and me, keeping with our tradition of demanding money from each other that we know we’ll never recoup.

He drops down into his seat between me and Joss and I snatch my popcorn off his tray.

“How about I take this off what you owe me for your plane ticket?”

That seems to have jogged his memory as he hands Joss her soda. “Well, yeah. That sounds doable, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought,” I add with a laugh.

Another surge of bodies flood through the door.

“Geez, the team must be really good this year,” Joss comments, staring as the swarm scrambles for good seats.

“Either that or our peers are information whores. With Southside being on the team, they knew West would be here,” Sterling says.

Joss thinks about that for a sec and then shrugs, agreeing with Sterling’s deduction.

“But while we’re on the subject of ‘Southside’,” she chimes in again, “isn’t it kind of demeaning that you three still call her that? She’s your girlfriend now, West. Maybe give it a rest? It’s a new year, perfect time to turn over a new leaf.”

I lean forward to peer around Dane’s greedy ass hoovering down popcorn and meet Joss’s gaze. “You’ve met Blue. If it bothered her, please believe she would’ve called me

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