“At least she didn’t catch you in bed with her son. Seeing that a second time might’ve actually killed her.”

I cringe as I shove my feet into sandals. “Please, don’t remind me. I need to get out of here. I . . . I can’t stick around to see what happens.”

Jackie nods and pulls her car keys out of her pocket. “Go. I’ll catch a ride home with someone. You don’t need to come back to pick me up.”

I can read between the lines. Jackie doesn’t want me coming back here while she’s responsible for me. I can’t blame her. I never want to come back.

Then I remember Cricket’s wedding.

“What am I going to tell Cricket? I can’t—”

Jackie shakes her head. “We’re not going to worry about that now. Just go. We’ll figure it out later.”

I take her keys and rush out of the locker room, hoping like hell I don’t see anyone else who might recognize me on the way out.

As if I could be so lucky.

Twenty-Three

Lincoln

My sister’s words repeat in my head as I bolt for the private exit from my office.

“The ambulance is coming. Mother had another episode with her heart. It happened after she saw Whitney Gable in the spa.”

It’s like the past repeating itself, and part of me wonders if it’s real or fake this time. A good son would take the information at face value, but after years of my mother’s manipulations, I find it difficult to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Her cardiac episode ten years ago triggered by seeing Whitney and me together was real, according to the family’s doctor. This one? Fuck, who knows.

Her hatred of the Gable family will never die.

I reach the parking garage and jump in my Range Rover and haul ass out of the lot, tires squealing, barely waiting for the barrier to open completely. Two minutes later, I reach the resort road and take the back entrance. The sensor in my SUV triggers the gate.

I fly up to the front and slam on the brakes before throwing it into park and jumping out to head for the employee entrance.

The door flies open and a dark-haired woman rushes out, not looking where she’s going. She slams into my chest.

“I’m so sorry—” She looks up, and it’s another punch to the gut.

“Whitney.”

All the blood drains from her face. “I swear I didn’t do anything. I didn’t. I—”

My instincts kick into overdrive, and I wrap my arms around her. “Shhh, Blue. You didn’t do anything. I know it’s not your fault.”

Her entire body shakes in my hold. “She hates me so much. I should never have come home.”

I squeeze her tighter, and everything about having her in my arms feels so fucking right. “It’s going to be okay. This isn’t your fault.”

She lifts her blue eyes to mine, and the sight of tears flooding them guts me. “It doesn’t matter where I go. I ruin everything.”