Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Her expression tells me she doesn’t want to, but she ducks into the driver’s seat of her car.
My dad puts out a protective hand as Gabriel takes another step closer. “You should wait in the car, Vi.”
My mom isn’t always the most logical person on the face of the earth, and she also raised four kids, so she isn’t one to back down. “Like hell I’m waiting in the car when a forty-year-old man is coming at my son.”
“Your son is sleeping with my wife.” Gabriel’s voice is eerily calm.
“She’s only your wife because you won’t give her a divorce.” I realize, belatedly, that the smarter move would’ve been to keep my mouth shut. But it’s clear, at least to me, that he’s been keeping tabs on Clover. Watching her somehow. Otherwise, what the hell would he be doing stalking her on campus?
“Clover and I have been trying to work it out, and you’re getting in the way,” he says through gritted teeth.
I cross my arms. I honestly have nothing to lose at this point. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you supposed to be going through her lawyer if you want to talk to Clover? I’m not sure that constitutes an attempt at working it out. And if you mean I’ve been getting in the way by being someone she can rely on and talk to about the fact that you’ve been refusing to sign the papers for more than half a year, then yeah, I guess I am.”
Clover pulls out of her spot and heads for the exit. Gabriel is too focused on me to notice. He moves closer, getting up in my personal space. “Do you really think you’re what she wants? She’s only fucking you to piss me off.”
“Well, clearly, it’s working. Feel free to take a swing at me so I have a reason to knock your ass out.”
“Step down, Maverick.” My dad pushes between us, shaking his head. “You need to back off. If you so much as lay a finger on my son, I’ll have you so wrapped up in legal red tape, it’ll make your head spin and your bank account cry.”
Gabriel runs his tongue over his teeth and takes an exaggerated step back, holding his hands up in surrender, gaze moving over my dad’s shoulder to where I’m standing. “Leave my wife alone. She’s a bleeding heart. It’s one of her personality flaws. I did some digging. I know about you and your family.” His gaze shifts to my mom. “Your golden boy is just a pawn in a game.” He turns to walk away but pauses and spins to face us. “In case you weren’t aware, you should know that my wife is your son’s professor.”
He grins when my mom gasps, like he’s proud of the bomb he dropped. He tucks his hands in his pockets and starts whistling as he crosses the parking lot, disappearing around the side of the arena. I’m sure he parked his car in another lot on purpose. This feels orchestrated, like he’s been waiting to pull this shit.
My dad puts a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. You need to get in the truck.”
Thirty-One
The Verbal Diarrhea Match
Maverick
Tonight, more than any other night, I wish I hadn’t driven in with Kody and Quinn, because then I’d have an escape route that isn’t sitting in my dad’s truck, fielding twenty questions. I try to climb into the back seat, but my mom elbows me out of the way.
“Oh, hell no. You’re sitting up front with the human time bomb.” She gives me a look and holds out her hand. I give her mine, and she hoists herself into the back seat, shimmying over until she’s in the middle of the bench while I climb into the front passenger seat.
“Are you trying to sleep your way to a degree?” she asks.
“No, Mom. And most of my professors are old dudes. There’s no way I would sleep with any of them.”
“Are you an escort, then? Is that what’s going on? Are you pimping yourself out like . . . like . . . one of those pool boys?”
“What?”
“Kids do it all the time in college. They get a sugar daddy, or mommy, who pays for all their things in college! Tuition, clothes, boob jobs, which obviously you don’t need because you don’t have boobs—but that’s not the point! We have literally millions of dollars. You do not need to sell your body for money!”
“How do you know that’s what girls do in college?” Dad asks.
I give my dad a look. “Leave it to you to get all territorial about Mom thirty years after the fact. You didn’t even know Mom back then. So what if she had a sugar daddy?” If I can defend my mom, I might get her to calm down.