Page 60 of Boards & Betrayal

Excuse the fuck out of me?

My fingers flew over the screen, anger boiling over.

The little bubble popped up, indicating she was typing something, then it disappeared. My jaw tightened as I waited. It popped back up again.

Why don't you talk to that little tart about it?

When you're done, let me know when I can pick up my check.

No way in fuck am I giving you shit.

?? Talk to her, and then let me know.

It took everything in me not to throw my phone across the room. The water around me felt colder, sharper, against my skin.Janet had always known how to push my buttons, but this—this was a new low.

What had Ally told her? Or more importantly, what hadn’t Ally told me?

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stay in the ice bath for another few minutes before getting out. Wrapping a towel around myself, I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror—dark circles under eyes that were tired of this endless battle.

My phone buzzed again, another text from Janet, no doubt, but I ignored it. For now, all that mattered was figuring out what she knew and why Ally had kept it from me.

I needed answers. And those answers started with Ally.

I got dressed quickly, ignoring the dull throb in my knee. My movements were mechanical—shirt, pants, jacket. I grabbed my keys from the counter, the metal cold against my skin. The pain in my knee flared as I headed to the door, but I pushed it aside. I needed answers.

The drive to Ally’s place felt like an eternity. The street lights blurred past me, a hazy reminder of how much time had slipped through our fingers. Each mile brought me closer to the confrontation I dreaded but knew was necessary.

I pulled up outside her building and parked, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the car. The strain in my knee intensified as I climbed the stairs to her apartment. My knuckles rapped against the wood, careful not to pound.

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open. Ally stood there, her hair a tangled mess and dressed in just a t-shirt. She looked at me with eyes that were both wary and weary.

I opened my mouth, but words failed me. The anger I’d carried with me melted away in the face of her sadness.

"Can I come in?" My voice was softer than I intended.

She nodded, curling a strand of hair behind her ear as she stepped aside to let me in.

Her apartment was small, but cozy. The walls were adorned with framed photographs—her work, no doubt. Each picture captured moments of raw emotion, frozen in time by her skilled eye. A cluttered coffee table sat between a worn-out couch and an armchair that had seen better days. Books and magazines were scattered across the surfaces, evidence of a life lived in quiet introspection.

I stood awkwardly by the door, unsure where to begin. The tension between us hung heavy in the air, a palpable reminder of everything left unsaid.

I glanced around, trying to find something—anything—to break the silence. My gaze landed on a photograph discarded on her desk—a black-and-white shot of a mother holding her newborn child. The sight of it twisted something deep inside me.

Finally, I turned back to Ally, who was watching me with those eyes that always seemed to see right through me.

"We need to talk," I said, voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

She nodded again, her expression unreadable as she motioned for me to sit on the couch.

As I lowered myself onto the cushions, careful not to aggravate my knee further, I realized this conversation would be anything but easy. But it was necessary—for both of us.

"Tom, I—" She stopped herself, pacing in front of me.

My eyes trailed up and down her body. She always looked so damn good in my shirts, her shapely legs long and inviting. A bruise marred her shin, nothing new considering she wasn’t exactly the most graceful. It only made her more real to me.

"Ally," I said, grabbing her wrist and tugging her toward me.

She fell into my lap, straddling me with a surprising ease that sent a jolt through my system.

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