“His wife is dying,” I say, spitting the words at him. “Kirk is at home, consoling her as she deals with cancer, and you think I should call him? And say what, Jared? That my son’s father landed himself in jail, again, and he needs to write me a check so you aren’t inconvenienced?” I clench my hand at my side. “How about this? How about you sleep in the bed you made for once in your life.”

“So what are you going to do? Let me sit here and rot? I’m the father of your son, damn it.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

“I don’t know what you’re going to do. It’s not my problem. I can’t take care of another fucking person right now.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I can barely manage my own life at the moment. Between work, raising the son that we share that you seem to forget about until it behooves you, and trying to keep my mental health from tanking, I can’t take care of anyone else!”

The fury feels good.

“I’m so sick of picking up the pieces of everything,” I say. “When do I get to prioritize me? When do I get to be the main character of my life? Because I’d like to know.”

I spin around, fueled by my anger. Cole’s eyes are wide, and I realize that I’m shouting.

“Enough’s enough,” I tell Jared, my voice lowered. “Whatever you’ve done to get yourself in this mess . . . you’re going to have to figure out how to get out of it.”

I’m done. I can’t take any more, and I refuse to break for anyone else’s situation.

Jared doesn’t answer. I’m sure he’s shocked. I’ve never said this before—not so definitively and concretely.

I look into Cole’s eyes and feel his presence radiating from a few feet away. I know he’ll wrap me up in his arms as soon as I’m off the phone, and he’ll hold me close.

The thought makes me smile.

“Good luck, Jared. But I have to go.”

I end the call and blow out a breath.

I’m so angry, so freaking angry . . . but also invigorated, which sounds stupid. But I finally told him where to shove his selfish, puerile ass.

I take a deep breath and hope that Cole doesn’t think I’m out of my mind and some kind of unbalanced banshee who cries one minute and rages the next.

Here’s to hoping he doesn’t want to run out the door.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” I tell Cole. “Let’s talk about us.”

He runs a hand down his face. “Why don’t we sit down?”

Everything inside me stills, as if someone has halted the scene starring me and Cole.