Serves Me Wright (Wright #9) - K.A. Linde Page 0,91

all I know, you told George not to give me the contract and made yourself the only option.”

Her cheeks colored. “I wouldn’t…”

“Yes, you would,” I said flatly. “You have, and you would. You’d do anything, and in my own fear, I forgot that. I just wanted this so bad. But it’s not worth my integrity or my girlfriend.”

“You’re really going to side with a drug addict over me?”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know what those pills were, but Jen is nothing of the sort. I would have noticed if my girlfriend was on drugs.”

“But at the gala—”

“Enough!” I snapped. “Enough. This is enough. I’m done, Ashleigh. I was done months ago, and you need to move on. Just move on and stop ruining my life.”

Tears came to her eyes as she closed up her notebook and tucked it under her arm. “I can’t move on from you.”

“Too bad. You’ll have to find a way. Now, kindly get the fuck out of my house.”

She swallowed. For a second, she looked like she was going to try to argue with me. But there must have been something in my eyes, something resolute, because it made her finally turn and walk toward the door.

“I still love you, you know,” Ashleigh whispered as she pulled it open.

“I don’t think you know what that word means,” I told her.

She nodded once, her jaw clenched, and then exited my house.

I wanted to not move another muscle until this hangover was gone, or better yet, get rid of this fucking hangover and find a punching bag to channel this energy into, but I didn’t have the luxury. Not for either option. I had this fucking breakfast.

I didn’t even have time to care about my clothes as I called an Uber to come get me. I left on the clothes I was wearing, threw on a hat, and headed to Stacked, a hole-in-the-wall breakfast joint.

When I arrived, it was bustling. Way more people than I’d thought would be there. I didn’t know how Jordan expected us to have this conversation in public. Let alone somewhere this public. God, I wanted to reschedule. It was too bad Weston was leaving on the first plane out of Lubbock to head home and deal with his own family problems.

“What happened to you?” Jordan asked when I walked up to the entrance of the restaurant.

“Why?”

“You’re wearing basketball shorts in public.”

“Yeah?”

“Julian, you’re obsessed with your clothes.”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. At least my headache was finally taken care of, thanks to the Tylenol. But I still felt terrible.

“You’re wearing a baseball cap,” Jordan said. He flicked the brim.

“Yeah, I get it. I look like shit. I’m hungover, and Jen just broke up with me.”

Jordan reared back. “Jennifer Gibson…broke up with you?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“How? Why? Fuck, Julian, I’m speechless.”

“Tell me about it. I’m a fucking idiot. That’s why she did it.”

Jordan arched an eyebrow. “What happened?”

I nodded away from the restaurant and laid it all out as we walked. The bullshit with the distributor, the yo-yo they’d strung me on, how I’d gone to Ashleigh, that Ashleigh had then shown up at my house this morning—all of it. Jordan listened without judgment, and when it was all out, he just sighed.

“Well, yeah, you kind of earned that.”

I ran a hand down my face. “I know. But…but is she right?”

“About Dad?”

I nodded. I couldn’t help it. I’d always wanted to be like dad. I’d worshipped the ground he walked on, but it was always Jordan who was more like Dad, who had gotten his praise and appreciation, who had wanted to run the business. And I was always more like Mom. I resented it. It was why it’d all hurt so bad when he turned out as terrible as he did because he hadn’t just ruined himself as a father; he’d ruined himself as my role model and idol. Now, the last thing I wanted was to be like him…after what he had done.

“Am I like Dad?”

“Yes,” he said without question, and I winced. “But so am I. Do you know the reason that I invited Dad back into our lives?”

“No,” I admitted. “I thought you wanted to move on.”

“Well, yeah, I did. But the other thing is that I’d talked to Mom, and she’d made me see that I wasn’t just the bad parts of my father. He isn’t one-dimensional, and neither are we. I’m not just his anger and pride and fear. You’re not just the guy who hid something from