I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. “Why not? It’s me you want to punish.”

“You ruined my life.” He sneered.

Presumably, he was referring to the backlash against him after the last game. He’d never owned up to a thing in his entire miserable existence; that sure as hell wouldn’t change now. “It’s only fair I return the favor.”

“You ruined your own life.”

Luke barked a caustic laugh. “I could say the same for you.”

He wasn’t wrong, though I never consented to that fucking video in the first place.

“Anyway.” Luke feigned a yawn, shifting his weight. “I’ve drafted a detailed email to everyone Bailey knows, complete with video attached. Break it off, or I’m hitting send.”

Heartache rocked through me like never before, mingled with pure, unmitigated rage. My brain went into lizard mode, rendering me speechless.

“Other people have copies, so don’t try anything cute. And don’t even think about trying to fake a breakup and pull one over on me. I have eyes everywhere,” he said. “That’s how I found you here.”

My heart wrenched as I forced out the words. “If I agree, will you leave her alone?”

“I will.” He opened the door and slid out but lingered. “You have twenty-four hours to do it.”

* * *

BAILEY

I glanced away from the article I was working on, checking the time in the bottom corner of the laptop screen. Chase was over half an hour late. It was out of character for him not to text to let me know, but he’d been acting strange for the past two days. Distant and despondent, not like his usual self. No flirty or sexy texts, either, which we usually exchanged multiple times a day.

When I’d texted to ask him what was wrong, he’d shut me down completely. I could only assume he was stewing over his three-game suspension. He seemed to take it in stride at the time, but I could tell being benched really bothered him. Especially when they’d lost their last game in a brutal defeat.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on.

Unease settled in my gut, and I returned my attention to my write-up about the school’s art fair. From beside me on my desk, my phone vibrated and lit up with a new text.

999-855-5955: Where was your boyfriend this afternoon?

Bailey: I changed my number for a reason, Luke.

999-855-5955: Oh, I think you’ll be happy I tracked you down.

A photo attachment followed. Fear creeped in as I dragged my fingers across the screen, zooming in. It was Chase on the porch of a green house. The door was open, and Kristen was standing in the doorway.

No.