Page 18 of Push

My foot was heavy on the gas. I never drove over the speed limit—not even when Gwen’s contractions had been coming four minutes apart. The way she’d glared at me from the passenger seat had shriveled my balls to dust, but good ol’ reliable Toby followed the rules.

None of that mattered now. I’d flipped that world upside down. Throwing one more rule out the window wouldn’t make a difference.

“Message received. Today. 3:02 a.m.”

I held my breath.

“Hey.” Marnie again. She was whispering. “I… God… Where are you? Just… Gwen’s falling apart, and I don’t… What do I do? She’s the strong one. Are you… Shit, Tobes. Are you coming back? Call me. Call her. Just call.”

I hit play on the next message.

“Why are you doing this?” Marnie’s voice was still a whisper, but anger spat out into every word. “Send her a message. You know what it did to her when Liam left. Even if you’re too gutless to come home with your tail between your legs, at least send her a fuckingmessage, you coward!”

I sped down the road, only slowing to a stop when the traffic lights had different plans. My fingers twisted tighter around the steering wheel, the nervous energy making me want to pump the gas even as I glared at the light stuck too long on red.

A new notification popped up on the screen.

Marnie had sent a text. No. She’d sent me a screenshot of a post on theNorth Shore Buy, Swap, and Sellsocial media page.

My heart plummeted before my head hit the steering wheel. I screwed my eyes shut, but even the angry honks of the cars impatiently revving behind me couldn’t block the furious words Gwen had written in her advertisement.

My husband and his not-so-secret girlfriend are pleased to invite you to the yard sale of the century. Everything must go—including his cheating ass!

I was a dead man.

7

She Had a Sale

Gwen

I spotted the megaphonewedged behind the doomsday stockpile of washing detergent stored in the garage and grabbed it. Perfect. Just what I needed.

The revenge yard sale I’d advertised had gone viral, and I had a feeling my afternoon would be like herding a bunch of bargain-hungry cats. People dotted the sidewalk outside. Cars already banked up along the road.

I needed to be prepared, but clutching the megaphone in my hand years later only reminded me how much had changed.

A lifetime ago, one of my high school teachers had the bright idea of dragging me out of my comfort zone. Apparently, the token poor kid who’d scored a scholarship to the rich school needed to try harder to fit in, but I would’ve happily avoided all school social events to read—alone—under a tree until I graduated.

I had no interest in sports. School spirit? Some perky girl’s problem. It was only after I’d been “volunteered” to rally the fans that I learned about the rugby grand final.

But when a teacher gave me a special assignment, you can bet your ass I did it—andperfectly. I’d dressed up in school colors, danced with the sucker boiling in the koala suit, and even cracked out war chants over that megaphone until I’d been rendered speechless by the gorgeous boy with the big, broad shoulders beaming straight white teeth fresh out of braces.

Atme.

I’d never had a boyfriend, never snuck my first kiss. My brother’s icy glare had scared anyone from even daring to peek in my direction. But by the time the captain of the rugby team had started flirting with me and making dumb jokes about the size of my clipboard, Liam was gone, and somehow, beyond my giddy teenage dreams, this boy liked me.

I glanced at the megaphone in my hand. High school was a long time ago. The scrawled autographs of the team had faded, but the ghost of that nerdy, insecure girl stood next to me in the garage, tapping her foot and rolling her eyes as if to say, “I told you so.”

She’d always known Toby Sullivan would break my heart.

“Gwen! Where are—” Marnie’s voice was cut off by the sound of boxes crashing to the concrete floor. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

I slipped the baby monitor under the waistband of my jeans and grabbed a box of Toby’s crap from the floor. “Hey, Mar.” I nodded down at the box balanced on my hip. “I think this is the last of the stuff to sell.”

She shot a sheepish look over her shoulder as she quickly restacked the plastic tubs in a wobbly tower by the garage door. “Look at you.” Her eyes landed on the megaphone. She laughed. “My girl’s serious about whooping some dentist ass.”

I grinned. I really was. That cheating bastard wouldn’t know what hit him when he came home.

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