Bittersweet (Redemption #3) - Jessica Prince Page 0,8

single brow in silent communication, and I gave him a gentle smile and an indiscrete shake of my head, letting him know I was fine and I didn’t need him to step in.

“Just stating a fact. You’re always beautiful, honey, but in that dress—”

I finally looked at him for the first time since the dance started, tilting my head back in order to glare up into those dark eyes. “Don’t,” I snapped. Being in his arms like this, it would have been so easy to give in to the tidal wave of feelings crashing through me. Letting him hold me, touch me . . . He could have easily consumed me just as he’d done before. But the reality was, he’d broken me. He’d changed me. I was no longer the girl I once was. What he’d done to me had hardened my soul. So instead of falling into old patterns and letting those sweet words soothe over all the pain in my heart, I let them fuel my anger.

“Giving you this one dance doesn’t change anything between us. If it wasn’t for the fact I want Farah to have an incredible day, free of any drama, there’s no way in hell I would’ve let you touch me. So do me a favor and be quiet so I can get through this without losing my shit.”

His brows pulled down into a deep, intimidating V. “You can’t avoid me forever, Shane. We live in the same goddamn town. We share a son, for fuck’s sake. Since I came back, you’ve barely looked at me. We can’t keep going like this. It’s not good for Brantley.”

Every muscle in my body locked tight. Our swaying stopped as I hissed, “Don’t you dare tell me what’s good for my son. You have no goddamn right. Everything I’ve done since the day he came into this world has been for him. And you think you can just show up here after missing the first four and a half years of his life and have a say in anything?”

I let out a caustic laugh, rage sliding up my throat and burning like acid. “You’re just playing the part of daddy. You don’t have the first fucking clue what it means to actually be a parent. Until you’ve been there for the bad times, until you’ve had to live through the gut-wrenching fear that goes hand in hand with the joy of raising and loving and protecting the little person you created, you’ll never be a real parent. I wasn’t the only one you left behind, asshole. You left him too. So don’t you ever try and tell me what’s best for my son.”

He opened his mouth, prepared to speak, but I was done. Wrenching my hand from his grip, I spun around and hustled off the dance floor, ignoring the looks from everyone around us who caught on to the argument.

So much for not making a scene.

Chapter Three

Shane

Sixteen years old

“ShaneShaneShaneShane!”

At the sound of Rina’s shrill voice, I leaned back past my open locker door and glanced down the hall. She was coming at me at a full sprint, her already short denim skirt riding up even higher while the breasts she’d developed back in middle school bounced like crazy in her low-cut, skin-tight cropped top. She was drawing the eyes of every boy in her vicinity.

Something in her had changed last year, and the shy, somewhat nerdy girl I’d once known had gone wild. She used to spend most of her time with her nose pressed between the pages of romance books she’d snuck from her mom’s shelves. Now she spent her weekends going to parties the upperclassmen threw so she could meet boys. She dressed provocatively, acted wild, and bragged far and wide about all her sexual conquests. To hear her tell it, freshman year she’d gone from virgin to double digits like it was as easy as changing shoes. She got off on the attention her inappropriate clothes and behavior got her, and it was getting to the point where I barely recognized the girl who’d been my best friend since pre-school.

“You’ll never guess what I just heard!” she exclaimed, sliding to a stop in her bejeweled flipflops.

Pulling my geometry book from my locker, I closed the door and turned to face her. “What did you hear?”

Her cheeks flushed pink beneath all the layers of makeup she’d troweled onto her face that morning. “So, according to Becky P. and Cathy M., there’s a new