Page 80 of Manhattan Tormentor

I miss him so much.

Knowing still that I’m no good for him, and never will be.

I’m the bad guy. I can’t change.

Sage’s mom is right. Someone like me who’s done shitty things to him doesn’t deserve him, even if I can accept that I caught feelings for a man.

Some things are better left alone.

Fucking around with Sage Fierro is one of them.

I hear my phone ring and I roll to my feet. My sigh is tsunami strong seeing who it is. “What, Sofia?”

I listen to her squeaky babbling for a minute as I stare down at the photos of a man who is no longer mine.

Was never mine.

The ache of truth pinching my skin.

“Yeah,” I reply, rocks in my stomach. I know what needs to be done and so does she. “I’m ready for tomorrow.”

C H A P T E R 24

Sage

Spending Christmas and my eighteenth birthday using a crutch was not in any of my plans for this year.

The eight and a half months after that have been slogging my guts out through therapy and graduating while dealing with slower mobility, headaches and dizziness, consequences to my accident.

I didn’t get to graduate early. But as dad says, shit never goes as planned, you just have to roll with it. Now I’m finally moving into my studio apartment.

“It’s small,” mom remarks, putting bags of groceries on the kitchen counter.

“I don’t need anything bigger.”

“We could have rented you a place closer to home. Or you could stay at home,” she presses, not for the first time.

“Sena, quit nagging him, now grab your purse, we’re leaving.” Dad tells her.

“But we just got here. I haven’t made him anything to eat yet.”

“Sena…”

“Fine. Cut me out of his life too,” she says dramatically. Dad and I share a grin.

“He’s got money and he can fend for himself. We’re a phone call away if Sage needs anything, so stop whining, woman, or I’ll give you something to whine about.”

“Oh, really?” she sasses back. “I’d like to see you try, Fierro.”

“For the love of my eyeballs.” I interrupt them both before they go at it on my living room floor, and I have to set the place on fire. “Save the flirting for when you’re outside.”

Dad chuckles and cuffs me around the neck, bringing me in. “You good, cub?”

“Yes, now take your woman out for lunch already.”

“About to. We love you, call if you need anything.” He kisses my forehead then I go get my hug from mom because she isn’t leaving without one. “I’m fine,” I reassure her because I know she needs it. She’s been through this with my brothers. Dad warned me she’d be a wreck. Even though my nineteenth birthday isn’t that far, we’re always her cubs.

We’re a very close family, but also independent. They’ve taught me how to deal with shit on my own. The months of recovering, getting me to a point where I don’t need to use a crutch to walk anymore proves that. Juggling intense therapy while taking my exams means washing my own clothes will be a cakewalk.

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