Page 120 of Wright Together

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Page 120 of Wright Together

His jaw dropped open. For a split second, I watched his genial mask slip and the cruel businessman appear. The narcissist that I knew he was. “All I want is to make things right with all of you.”

“On your terms,” I interrupted.

“I’d do it on your terms, if you gave them to me.”

“Our terms are to leave us alone and let us figure it out.”

“Those aren’t terms,” he said, bristling. “That’s not having any of you in my life.”

“Whose fault is that?”

He pursed his lips. “So, you’re just going to punish me forever?”

“No. We’re not punishing you. We’re setting a boundary. We’re saying that what you’re doing right now isn’t acceptable.”

“That’s the same thing.” He waved his hand. “A boundary is just another punishment.”

I forced out a harsh laugh. “Only someone who needs a boundary sees it as punishment.”

My dad sputtered at that assessment and launched into a gaslighting critique of my judgment. But at this point, I was too frustrated by my weekend to deal with him. He’d never learn. That was something he’d proven time and time again. He did things for his benefit and his benefit alone. If we fit into his schemes, then he included us, but never what we wanted or needed. I was tired of being a pawn in his endless game. I was ready to take myself off the board.

“Go home,” I said, cutting him off. “Make yourself the victim all over again. We’re in the wrong. Always.Always. Whatever you have to tell yourself. But it’s not my problem anymore. Just go home.”

Then, I closed the door in his face. He banged his fist on the door twice. I leaned back against it and waited for him to leave. I knew I’d have a bunch of texts and calls, railing against me for asserting myself. I had a pit in my stomach at the thought of it all. And before it could happen, I blocked his number.

A weight lifted from my shoulders the second it was done. Owen Wright was out of my life. He wouldn’t get another way back in. He’d try—I knew that much—but it wasn’t like he was suddenly going to go to therapy and become self-aware. So, it wasn’t my fucking problem.

I waited until he retreated to his rental car and drove away before moving from my position. It was finally over. I never would have gotten there before Eve. I wanted to call her and tell her what had happened so bad. I even pulled my phone out to do it, but at the same time, I didn’t want to crossherboundary. She needed space. She’d let me know when she was ready to talk.

Instead, I found a text from Colton waiting for me. It was a picture of him sweeping at the lake house. He was flipping the bird at me.

Despite everything, I laughed. What a little shit.

How’d it go?

??

Yeah, I’d expected that. Jensen had been relieved that I’d gotten him home safe. That didn’t mean there weren’t consequences to Colton’s actions. Consequences he likely deserved after the shit he kept pulling.

Need any help?

dad said no help

I can deal with Jensen.

good luck with that boss

Maybe it was overstepping my bounds, but I felt responsible for Colton after everything he went through. He’d wriggled his way into my life, and I didn’t want him to suffer alone. Plus, I couldn’t sit around here all day after what happened with my dad and wait to hear from Eve. Some physical labor might help.

So, I changed into jeans and a T-shirt and headed back out to Ransom Canyon for the second time in so many days.

The house looked worse in the light of day. A half-dozen large black trash bags were already full to bursting on the front porch. I hadn’t even noticed the outside when we drove up last night, but the lawn was littered with trash—beer cans, plates, toilet paper. Glass glittered from the deck surface. Another window had a hole in it the size of a baseball. Had someone put their fist through it?

I parked my Lexus next to Jensen’s pickup out front. I was nearly to the door when Jensen came outside.

“Did he call you?” Jensen asked.

“Text.”




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