by Rose, Emery
I laughed. “Don’t worry, Lexie. You’re not worth an arrest for assault and battery.”
I walked out of the room, my head held high. When I got into the hallway, I sprinted down the stairs and barreled out the front door. I flew down the front porch steps and rounded the corner, my feet slipping and sliding on the freshly fallen snow as I skidded to a halt in front of Luke’s silver BMW, a high school graduation present from his parents. Everything in Luke Prescott’s life had been handed to him on a silver platter. An only child of doting parents who put him on a pedestal, he was spoiled rotten. They should have given their son values instead of material possessions. Who got a BMW for graduating high school?
I swung the bat, and it connected with the hood. Crunch. Another mighty swing, and I took out a headlight. My body was coiled tight with rage. I needed to unleash it. Anger beat the alternative—curling up into a ball and crying enough tears to fill an ocean.
“Eden. Stop!” Luke yelled. I ignored him and swung at the other headlight. Bam! Bam! Bam! I kept swinging, metal crunching under my bat. Hell hath no fury like Eden Madley scorned. Not that I was a violent person. But I pictured Lexie’s triumphant smile, and it fueled my anger.
I raised the bat, ready to inflict more damage.
Luke wrapped his arms around me from behind and dragged me a safe distance away from the car. “What have you done?” Luke wailed, sounding like a big fat baby.
“The same thing you did to my heart.”
I struggled free of his hold and dropped the bat to the ground. Crisis averted, he moved closer to inspect the damage, brushing off the snow with his hands. It wasn’t nearly enough. But defeat and heartache had drained the fight right out of me. “I’m sorry,” he said, his back to me. He didn’t even have the guts to look me in the eye. “I’m really sorry, Eden.”
“Fuck you, Luke. Take your sorry and shove it up your ass.” I strode away, shoulders squared and head held high, trying to hang on to any shred of dignity I had left. Tears lodged in my throat, but I swallowed them. On the way over here, I’d thought the snow looked pretty. Like being inside a snow globe. Now the snow stung my face, impeding my progress. I burrowed into my jacket and stuffed my hands in my pockets.
“Hey, Eden,” Trevor called, jogging to catch up to me. He knew what was going on under their roof. I was the last to find out. Wasn’t that always the way? “For what it’s worth, I think you deserve a hell of a lot better. If you ever wanna grab a beer, call me.”
I nodded and kept walking, choking back the tears. I unclasped the bracelet Luke gave me for my twenty-second birthday yesterday, tossed it on the ground, and crushed it under the sole of my boot. It had come in a blue Tiffany’s box—a sterling silver charm bracelet with a heart medallion.
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About the Author
Emery Rose has been known to indulge in good red wine, strong coffee, and a healthy dose of sarcasm. She loves writing about sexy alpha heroes, strong heroines, artists, beautiful souls, and flawed but redeemable characters who need to work for their happily ever after.
When she’s not writing, you can find her binge-watching Netflix, trotting the globe in search of sunshine, or immersed in a good book. A former New Yorker, she currently lives in London with her two beautiful daughters and one grumpy but loveable Border Terrier.
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