Page 118 of Just Say Yes

I scoffed at his audacity. The same man who’d called me a cunt was now begging for my forgiveness?

I ground my teeth. “You know what, Trent? I’m actually glad you were my first, because that means, any man to ever come after you isinfinitelybetter.”

Red splotches bloomed on his neck. “Better?” he scoffed, his tone dripping with resentment. “Who? You think Logan’s better?” Fury and resentment marred his features. “He’s always been better, hasn’t he? The golden boy who takes whatever he wants, leaves the rest of us picking up scraps. You’re just another trophy to him, MJ. I can’t believe you’re the type of girl who would throw her life away to follow him around like a lost puppy.”

The words hit like a slap. My breath caught as realization dawned. This wasn’t about me—this had never been about me. This was about Trent’s ego, about some petty competition he thought he was still in.

An idea struck me like lightning, and before Bug could say more about the fire department, I turned toward the corner of the porch, where the coiled garden hose sat like a beacon of petty justice.

For years, Trent’s words had been like hooks, snagging on the insecurities I didn’t even know I had. But now, as I stood here with a hose in my hand and his accusations rolling off my shoulders, I realized something important.

I wasn’t that girl anymore. And he wasn’t strong enough to break the woman I had become.

“MJ ...” Trent’s voice wavered as I grabbed the hose, unspooling it with deliberate calm. “What the hell are you doing?”

I didn’t answer, instead twisting the nozzle open just enough to let the water dribble out in warning. I gave him a once-over, my expression as bored as I could muster. “You’re still here?”

He stepped back, his shoes scuffing the driveway. “Don’t be a child. You’re not serious.”

I squeezed the nozzle fully, sending a forceful spray of cold water straight into his tiny dick. He yelped, stumbling backward as I flicked my wrist, water drenching him from head to toe.

Water spurted up his nose. Then the spray hit Trent square in the chest, and for the first time in years, I didn’t feel small. I didn’t feel powerless. I felt in control, the weight of his words rolling off me like water off the hose’s stream.

“MJ!” he spluttered, his arms flailing as he tried to block the spray. “What the hell?”

“I told you to leave,” I said evenly, tilting the nozzle to hit him in the face again for good measure. “But I guess you needed a little extra motivation.”

His face darkened, his voice dropping to a growl. “You’re pathetic. You don’t even see he’s playing you, MJ. He’s only here because it makes him feel like he’s better than me.”

The words stung, not because I believed him, but because they echoed the doubts I’d been trying to drown out. But then I saw Bug’s expression—a mix of pride and something sharper, more protective—and the sting faded, replaced by a surge of defiance.

“Son,” Bug drawled, stepping up beside me, “if you really believe that, you’re even dumber than you look. Now are you finally going to learn how to leave when a woman tells you to?”

Trent struggled to get to his feet, muttering under his breath, but I wasn’t done yet. I turned the hose on him again, this time aiming lower, the cold water hitting his legs and making him slip slightly on the damp grass. He landed on all fours.

“You’re right, Trent,” I said evenly, my voice steady. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. And your ego. And the fact that you can’t stand the idea of someone else being happy when you’re not. Well, guess what? That’s not my problem anymore.”

He glared at me, soaked and humiliated, before finally rising to his feet and storming off into the night like a petulant child.

I stood there, the garden hose still in my hand, water seeping into the grass at my feet. My pulse thrummed in my ears, not from fear, but from the rush of adrenaline still coursing through me.

“And that’s how you take out the trash.” Aunt Bug’s voice was warm but with an edge, pulling me out of my thoughts. She leaned against the doorframe with a smile.

I snorted softly, letting the hose drop to the ground. “Didn’t feel like trash when I was with him.”

Bug pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder as I climbed to meet her at the door. Her grip was firm, grounding. “Men like him? They don’t know how to lose. They twist things around, make you think you’re the problem because they can’t face their own shortcomings. But you? You’re finally learning how to win—your way.”

The words hit something deep inside me, a place that had been raw and aching for far too long. I met her steady gaze, feeling a sting in the back of my throat. “It didn’t feel like winning for a long time.”

“Because you didn’t know your worth,” Bug said simply. “But you do now, don’t you?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “I think I do.”

She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “Good. Now come inside before you catch a cold. I’ll make you some peppermint tea.”

In the kitchen, the warm light softened the edges of the night. Bug moved around the space with the practiced ease of someone who’d lived here her entire life, setting a kettle on the stove and pulling down two mugs. I sat at the table, staring at my hands, the silence between us comfortable but heavy.

When she slid a steaming mug in front of me, she rested her hip against the counter and tilted her head. “It felt good, didn’t it?”

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