An hour later, I sit at my kitchen table with Wendy. I was hysterical by the time I walked through the door—infuriated with Jackson, with my father for selling out and not answering my calls when I tried to reach him. Angry with myself. I had stupidly fallen right into Jackson’s plans. What had started as a business arrangement had turned into more. On my end. Only on my end. He’d paid me and he’d played me.

And I was too busy getting off and falling for the bastard to realize his end game.

“Are you finally going to tell me what’s wrong?” Wendy probes, making herself a shot of rum. She downs her shot and pinches her lips. “You came in here crying so hard, I thought someone died. Nobody died, right?”

I shake my head. When I motion for her shot glass and the rum, she knits her brows but pours it anyway. She slides the glass across the table, and I catch it before it flies off the edge. “My dad sold the restaurant to Cade.” I don’t even want to call him by his name anymore. He’s just … Mr. Cade.

He’s just a business transaction, as much as it destroys me to admit that.

Wendy’s brown eyes pop wide. “What the hell do you mean your dad sold the restaurant? I mean … wasn’t he the same guy who was freaking out about losing the place just a few weeks ago.”

That’s what I don’t understand. My father was heartbroken the afternoon he finally let me know how far in debt he was to the Cade family. He had gone to every bank in Chicago—called everyone he knew—just to pay off the loan in time. And then, the moment it was done, he had waltzed into Jackson’s office and sold the building. I can’t wrap my head around it. I drag my fingers through my hair as I let out a frustrated sob.

“Guess he heard a prick with deep pockets was buying up property on the street and he figured he could get in on it.” I swallow the rum without flinching, then drop my head to the table. “Fuck, who knows what he was thinking. He won’t answer my calls and he wasn’t at home or the restaurant when I drove by.”

“I’m so sorry, Flick,” Wendy whispers, leaning over to stroke my arm. “Maybe there’s a logical explanation for all this.”

Yeah, I’d considered that too. Driving home, I told myself over and over again that my father must have had a good reason, but why wouldn’t he tell me? He’s had plenty of time to bring it up, and he hasn’t said a word. Lifting my head slightly, I look into my best friend’s eyes and feel my face crumble again. “I’m so stupid, Wendy.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Don’t say shit like that because it’s not true.”

“Really? I sold myself to save the place. I shouldn’t have tried to help. I shouldn’t have cared.”

I shouldn’t care.

Except, I do. And the only thing more painful than my father going behind my back is that Jackson had intended to keep it from me too. If Elaine hadn’t said anything, we would have probably gone another week fucking like rabbits and then—on the final night of our agreement—he would have told me the truth. Because it wouldn’t have mattered then. I wouldn’t have mattered. As if on cue, the phone he gave me vibrates, and my chest constricts, my ribcage tightening around my heart. Jackson has called me at least a dozen times since I left the party, but I haven’t had the nerve to answer.

Wendy reaches across the table and shoves the phone in my direction. She nods down to it. “If you don’t pick it up, it’s just going to keep ringing.”

She’s right, and I hate that. Swallowing hard, I accept Jackson’s call, growling, “Leave me alone, Cade.”

“Not until you listen to me and hear what I have—”

“Leave me alone.”

“We have an agreement, Flick,” he says in a dangerous voice, and my eyes narrow to thin slits that water at the corners. I can tell myself a million times not to cry over him, but it won’t do me any good. He owns everything—from my body to the ridiculous tears that won’t seem to stop.

Parting my lips, I fight for a calm breath. “Would you like me to return your money? I will if that means you’ll just stop bothering me.” Wendy’s dark eyes widen and she shakes her head as I continue in a shattered voice, “You have what you want. You got to fuck me and you got the restaurant. You should be happy.”

“Do I sound happy, Felicity? Do you think I wanted to feel—” He inhales harshly and releases it along with an angry growl. “At least let me explain what happened. You owe me that much.”

I owe him. God, I hate hearing him tell me that I’m indebted to him. “Goodbye, Jackson.”

“Felicity, so help me god if you don’t—”

I had hoped that hanging up on him, crushing him mid-sentence, would make me feel some semblance of relief. That it would put some of the control back in my corner. It doesn’t. Every muscle and nerve in my body burns as I place my phone face-down on the table. It vibrates again, the harsh tremors shaking through me, but I shake my head. “Screw him.”

“Here,” Wendy says, and when I look up at her, I realize she’s holding a paper towel. “You’re crying.”

“I’m fine.” I rub the scratchy material over my face, then hiccup. “I swear I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you are,” she says, but she doesn’t look convinced as she pours me another shot. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? I mean, if he’s calling you this much—”

“I’m sure,” I say too quickly. Too viciously. Too heartbrokenly.

Jackson Cade’s game with me is over now, and I lost.

My virginity. My restaurant. And worst of all, my heart.

* * *

When I go into work the next morning, I start for Dad’s office immediately to confront him, but he handles the first half of the deed for me. Just before opening for lunch, he calls everyone on duty—Brooke, Ziggy, the rest of the kitchen staff—to a meeting in the dining room. “You think he’s going to announce we’re getting a raise?” Brooke asks as she slides into a booth beside me and waits for my father to break his big news. “Because I could really use it.”

I don’t meet her gaze because I know the disappointment and fury is written all over my mine. “I doubt it,” I choke out.

“You never know,” she says with a shrug. “Things have been going better around here.”

But when Dad starts talking, Brooke’s optimism quickly disappears. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her face fall as Dad lets everyone know this location—like The Sandwich Station down the street—will be closing at the end of summer.

“They’re reopening in Litchfield,” Ziggy points out. He crosses his arms over his broad chest and cocks an eyebrow at my dad. “Are you saying we’ll be moving or are you saying it’s over?”

My father’s never been one for confrontation. It’s obvious Ziggy’s question flusters him because he shoves his hands in his pockets and shuffles his feet. “Business hasn’t been doing so great. Maybe in a year or two, I’ll consider reopening York’s.” He flinches when Ziggy snorts and takes off for the kitchen, mumbling that he’s got to get the grill ready for lunch. Dad is silent for a moment, meeting the rest of our stares. He stops on my face for just a second and swallows hard.

“For now, we’re closing for good,” Dad says.

It’s a load of bullshit. It’s a load of absolute bullshit, but nobody calls him out on it as he calls the meeting to a close. My co-workers wander off, dazed and upset by his news, and Dad doesn’t look at me when he slinks away to hide in his office. For a long time, I sit in that booth, grinding my teeth together as bitter anger swirls through me. He could barely look me in the eye because he knows he fucked up.

Climbing out of the booth, I walk to his office, my legs going number with each step. When I knock on the door, he softly requests that I give him a few minutes. I step inside anyway. He starts to come out of his seat in protest, but at the sight of me, he sinks back down and clamps his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry, Flick,” he whispers.

“No, you’re not.” I slam the door behind me and he jerks his head back, his green eyes flying open. “I can’t—won’t—accept that word from you because you just gave up.”

“I’m doing this for you,” he counters, and I stalk over to him, leaning over his chair to jab one finger a mere inch from the tip of his nose. This is the first time in twenty-one years I’ve ever gotten in my father’s face and spoken to him in real anger. His lips tremble as he repeats himself. “Felicity … I’m doing this for you.”

“No, you’re doing this for yourself. I love this place, Dad. I would do anything to keep it.” I have done anything. I had given away the one possession that was mine for a handful of money and a bad case of heart break from a rat bastard. “How could you do this? To them?” I wave my hand toward the door to his office, where I can hear Brooke on the phone telling her mother in Mississippi that she’s lost her job.

I back away from my father, dragging my hands over my face and through my brown hair. “When I found out what you did last night, I didn’t want it to be true. I wanted to believe you’d keep this place because you’d been so upset about losing it.” Shaking my head, I let out a bitter laugh. “God, it sucks to be wrong.”

His features harden. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter?” On the other side of the door, I hear Brooke tell her mother she loves her and that she’ll let her know when she finds something else. “They have kids, Dad. Kids and people who depend on them. They were loyal to us because we’re a family here. You don’t shit on family.”

“I’ll help them find more work, sweetheart. Do you think I wanted to do this?” He jabs his chest angrily. “We’re barely staying afloat. You’re in school and I can’t even help you pay your tuition. I promised your mother I’d take care of you, and that’s what I’m doing.”

I kneel down in front of him, resting my forehead on his knee like I used to do when I was upset as a child. “Why didn’t you come to me first?” I demand. “Why couldn’t you have said something?”

He smooths my hair, waiting until my sobs subside to speak softly. “Because I love you, Flick. I was tired of you taking care of me. I wanted to take care of you for once.”

“I wish you would have—” But I cut myself off, choking back my words. I don’t even have it in me to tell him that everything in my life is taken care of, that I’ve paid off all my loans already. That I’ve fallen recklessly for the man he just sold the restaurant to. I don’t want to think about Jackson, but once again, Dad asks who told me about him selling the restaurant.

Climbing to my feet, I hug my arms over my stomach and answer as honestly as I can without ripping his heart out of his chest. “Jackson Cade. We were seeing each other, but now we’re done.”

Dad is out of his chair, his face bright red before I have a chance to make another move. “He’s at least fifteen years older than you, Flick!”

“Eleven,” I say, reaching for the doorknob. I feel so defeated. Defeated and angry. I hate both. “And I don’t want to hear it. Not from you. You don’t get to judge me when you’ve just fucked a half a dozen people with very little notice.”

“Christ, sweetheart—”

“I won’t be mad at you forever.” I don’t turn to look at him. “I probably won’t even last a week. But, please, just let me think. Give me space to think.”

Though he doesn’t speak, I know he’s nodding. He exhales, takes a step in my direction, but then I hear him sink back down in his chair. Without another word, I leave his office to face my co-workers.

* * *

Jackson calls me once that night, but I don’t answer. And when he calls me the next morning, I box up the phone he’d given me and drop it by a courier service to be delivered to his office. After that, he doesn’t reach out to me again, even though he has my other number. Part of me is grateful that it was a clean—albeit painful— break, but the other part burns. I see him in my sleep. In the shower when my hands wander over my body. In my car when I think of how ridiculously fast he drives. No matter how much I will him to go away, it doesn’t happen.

He was my first in every way.

And you can’t forget that sort of thing.

A few nights after I confront my dad, I slump into my apartment mentally and physically exhausted. All I want is a hot shower and my bed, but I quickly discover neither of those will happen anytime soon when the sound of voices lures me into the living room.

There, sitting on the couch, are Erik and Wendy.

And right across from them wearing jeans and a dark blue tee shirt, looking more dressed-down than I’ve ever seen him but still just as beautiful, is Jackson.

He stops mid-conversation, his eyes drinking me in as I step into the room. His gaze is electrifying. Enough to take my breath away. So infuriating I have to curl my toes and bite my tongue not to ask him why the fuck he’s here or kiss him.

Probably both.

Smoothing my hand over my loose braid, I press my lips together and tilt my face down to the floor. “You didn’t tell me we had company, Wendy,” I say in a hoarse voice.

“You didn’t tell me you knew the Jackson Cade,” Erik pipes up, not even having the decency to recoil when I glower at him. “Fucking hell, this guy is going to be a legend in the investment world. He’s going to—”

“Shut the fuck up, Erik,” Wendy and I say at the same time, and he holds his hands up defensively.

“You two are the worst business majors I’ve ever met,” he counters, wincing when Wendy grabs him by the neck of his polo shirt and hauls him off the couch toward the door.

“We’re going to grab dinner, Flick.” She glances back at Jackson, worrying her pink lips together. “You’ll, ahh, call me if you need me?”

I ignore her question and nod. “You two have a good time.” For a long time after the door closes behind them, I just stare at Jackson. Despite my anger from the other night, I don’t want to approach him furiously again. I regret hitting him. I’ve never struck another human in my life and it had caught even myself off-guard. It had hurt to hear from someone else that he was planning to fuck me over. If he had just told me himself—if he had boldly faced me with his filthy mouth an unapologetic attitude—I would have been able to handle it.

I would have expected it.

I wouldn’t have reacted so violently.

“Why are you here?” I whisper.