Page 84 of The Worst Pucking Deal

Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “I’m not… I don’t know.” I run my hands through my shoulder-length hair, squeezing my eyes shut. “This is all so fucked up.”

Mickey hums quietly to himself. “And I bet you just made it a million times worse.”

“Probably,” I admit. Lucia’s stricken face jumps to the forefront of my mind. “Definitely.”

“What your mom did was fucked,” Mickey says, not bothering to sugarcoat the words. “But leaving your wife instead of talking to her, instead of listening, isn’t much better.”

“The fuck?” I roar. “I’m nothing like her.”

“Aren’t you, though?”

My nostrils flare as I clench and unclench my fists. “You’re too fucking old to still believe she is the one who cocked everything up by herself—”

“Don’t fucking use the word ‘cock’ in the same sentence as my mom.”

Mickey guffaws. “Whatever. The point is that Dad Perry was no fucking prize. He left you. And he’d only contacted you after you made it big. And what does he say every time he calls?”

“That he needs money,” I grumble.

Okay, I get it. I’m a dick, and instead of dealing with my issues, I’ve put it all on my mom. My mom, who also happens to be the only parent in my life, never asking for anything but my company.

“I get it,” I finally agree. “But I’m not ready to forgive her.”

“Which one?” Mickey asks, grinning. “Lucia or your mom?”

“Both.”

He shrugs. “Hate to tell you… actually, scratch that. I love that I’m the one who gets to tell you this. Forgiving your mom is long fucking overdue. As for Lucia, I think you’re the one who needs to be forgiven.”

I arch an eyebrow, shooting him an unimpressed stare. “Really?”

“Yep. Really. You fucked up with both of them. Don’t be such a pussy.”

A wave of gratitude washes over me. This is why I came to him. Mickey is brutal in his honesty. “Thanks, Mickey,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I mean it. Thanks for being here.”

He shrugs again. “Technically, you’re the one who’s here since we’re at my house.”

I chuckle. “Dick.”

We end up ordering pizza, the scent of melted cheese and tomato sauce enveloping us as we devour slice after slice. The distraction is welcome, providing a temporary reprieve from the turmoil brewing inside me.

Afterward, we watch a movie. Some stupid action shit that Mickey’s into. As the credits roll on the movie we’d chosen, I find myself unable to face the prospect of returning to mine and Lucia’s apartment. My thoughts are a chaotic whirlwind, and the idea of confronting them alone feels daunting, but it’s still better than going home. I need some time alone to process everything I learned today.

Mickey seems to sense my unease, his gaze meeting mine with a silent understanding. “You’re crashing here tonight, aren’t you?” he asks, his tone gentle.

I nod in response, grateful for his intuitive grasp on the situation. “Yeah,” I admit quietly. “I just... I need some time before I can go back there.”

Mickey offers a supportive pat on the shoulder. “No worries, man,” he says reassuringly. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”

I manage a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks, Mick,” I reply sincerely. “I really appreciate it.”

Lucia

Four days.

That’s how long it’s been since Fabian dropped the bomb and Sawyer stormed out. Whomever said time heals all wounds was either a liar, or maybe ninety-six hours just isn’t enough. Even if it feels like an eternity to me.

The first night, Sawyer didn’t even come home. And just as I was about to try to track him down, Mickey texted me to let me know Sawyer was at his place and planned to spend the night. The surprising text from someone I mean nothing to, turned the hollowness in my chest into a liquid fire of anger.

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