Sweet Little Lies (Dirty Little Lies Duet #2) - J.D. Hollyfield Page 0,60

himself. Listen, girl, I don’t have time to get the third degree. Did you want to close out your tab or not?” I give him a nasty look and sign the receipt, hoping my eyes are playing tricks on me and there’s not an extra number there, and walk outside. Heath is going to kill me. Once outside, I search for them, hoping they’re still in the parking lot. The thing is, I don’t see Gabriel’s fancy SUV.

I reach for my phone and call her, but it goes to voicemail. “Hey, girl, just making sure you’re all right. Call me if things turn south, and you need me to save you. Love you.” Something about this feels off. How could Gabriel have shown up, and they have left so fast? And the bartender pointed out Hazel was wasted, but she seemed to have control of herself when I went to the bathroom.

I debate calling Heath back, but the last thing I need to tell him is his daughter is with the one person he despises. “Shit.”

I can only hope he’s smart enough to take her home. I get in my car, probably not the smartest after drinking, and drive back to the dorm. When I get into our room, I call her again but get sent straight to her voicemail. My phone rings, and I hope it’s Hazel. Heath’s name flashes across my screen. I give him the end button, and just as quick, a text pops up.

Heath: Answer your fucking phone.

Ugh, he doesn’t sound happy. I have a lot of explaining to do…and probably a lot of making up to do too. Definitely sending a nude pic.

Me: I love you. I’ll answer when you calm down.

Heath: Answer your phone, naughty girl, before I go ballistic.

I feel like he’s past that. And considering I’m not with Hazel, I don’t know what to say when he asks. Dammit, Hazel, thanks for leaving me high and dry here.

Heath: I’m coming up there. You both better be in your room when I get there.

Well…shit. I call Hazel again, and again, it goes to voicemail. “Haze, we have a problem. Your dad is on his way here. You need to call me back and let me know what I should do. I can only hold him off for so long. I’m going to have to tell him you’re with him. Call me. Please.” I hang up.

Instead of another text, Heath calls. Shit. Here we go. “Hey, babe. Miss you—”

“Violet, I swear to God when I see you, I’m going to spank the living shit out of you. Let me talk to Hazel.”

Ugh… “Yeah, about that…”

Gabriel

“Shit. Careful,” I growl.

“Sorry, Mr. Walker, but I need to clean out your cut, or it will get infected.” Maria takes another dab at my split lip, and I hiss.

“Jesus!”

“Stay still. You’re like a little baby right—”

My phone dings, notifying me someone has entered the gate code. I pull my phone out, slapping Maria’s hand away to see who’s welcoming themselves onto my estate. I swear, if she came back, I’m going to lash her—

Heath.

Great.

Maria starts spreading ointment on my cheek when the sound of my front door bursting open echoes, scaring my poor maid.

“You move on quick, you piece of shit,” he says, throwing slander the second he walks into my kitchen. Maria jumps, dropping the ointment. “Oh, my apologies, Maria. I thought you were…”

“No worries, Mr. Winters.” She picks up the cream and makes another attempt at my face, but I slap her hand away. “I’m fine. That will be all.” She nods and quickly gathers her things to exit the room.

“Came back for round two? Or did you want Maria to clean you up too? She’s not very gentle. Just forewarning.” I remain seated, waiting for his next move, preparing myself for another blow I’ll willingly accept. I deserve it.

“I won’t be done with you until you’re fucking buried six feet under.” He takes a menacing step toward me, and I brace myself for his fists to ruin Maria’s patch-up job. “You know, I always knew you were ruthless and gave a shit about no one but yourself, but I thought I was the one exception to that rule. I could care less about how your blood runs cold for the people around you, but me? I thought I was your friend. Your only fucking friend. She’s my fucking daughter, Gabriel.”

His words sting more than my open wounds. They strike with a velocity, and I jerk back