I’m so angry I could yank the swing set right out of the ground and swing it at this asshole’s head. My muscles are tense, ready to follow through, but I can’t. Not with Minnie here. Still, the rage is so white hot that it’s threatening to burn me alive.

But it’s Valentine that I’m so angry at that I can hardly speak. A thick disgust curls in the pit of my gut. What the fuck was she thinking, letting him get that close to Minnie? What the fuck was she thinking, kissing him?

Valentine moves quickly around to the side of the swing set, her eyes wide. There’s a crackling urgency in the air now, and Minnie rests her head against my shoulder. She’s always gone quiet when things are tense, and I hate that things are tense right now.

But it’s not my fault that Valentine decided to go ahead and kiss another man while she was babysitting my daughter. This was already the worst day I’ve had in a long time, and this is just the icing on the cake.

Then there’s the thing that adds another awful layer to all of this. I don’t have any right to be angry. I can be pissed as hell that she would do this in front of my daughter, but Valentine isn’t mine. No matter how things seemed in the middle of last night, or early this morning, we still haven’t had that conversation yet. We’re not exclusive.

It doesn’t matter.

My brain can’t wrap itself around all this. All I can think about is getting back to the car. We have to go. I just threw a man down to the ground—a man who’s picking himself up and brushing himself off as we move toward the parking lot.

“Hey!” he calls out, sounding half furious, half astonished. “Valentine!”

“Do you know that guy?” I can hardly release my own jaw.

“Yes.” Valentine’s face is stricken, but I don’t care. I really don’t care in this moment whether she’s upset about getting caught. “But Ryder—”

“Valentine, we need to talk,” he says, coming after us. 

I whirl around to face him, and something in my expression makes him stop dead. “Don’t come another step closer.”

“Hey, Daddy?” Minnie’s words are muffled by the side of my neck. “Ice cream?” My heart cracks into a thousand pieces. It’s a sweet attempt to get us all out of this horrible tension, but it doesn’t quite do the trick.

“Yes, sweetheart. Ice cream.”

I turn toward the parking lot again, and asshole gets his courage back up. “Who the hell do you think you are? Valentine, stop. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Where’s the car seat?”

“In the back of my car,” Valentine answers, fumbling for her car keys in her pocket. “It’s right here. It’s right here, Ryder.” She clicks the door of her car unlocked with shaking hands and reaches inside to undo the seat.

He’s not brave enough to come right up to the curb, but he lingers in the center of the lawn, watching us. Hurry up, Valentine. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. A deep cleansing breath does absolutely nothing, so I take another one. She gets the seat out of the car, and I step neatly out of her way. Mine is three spaces down. She goes toward it without hesitating, puts the seat inside, and fastens it, tugging three times to make sure it’s seated.

Calm. Stay calm, just for a little while longer.

I never should have done this with her. I never should have gotten in over my head.

I give Minnie a squeeze, and she throws her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. “Ready for ice cream?”

“Ice cream!” she says with a little smile. That’s enough to get us out of here. I buckle her in, carefully, making sure the straps are exactly right. Then I shut the door and turn to face Valentine.

“I think we’re done here.”

Her mouth drops open, and the way she moves back half a step breaks something inside of me. But I can’t take back the words, and I don’t want to. I want to get far away from this place. Far away from this town. I want to get somewhere safe. I was beginning to think that boring, kitschy Lakewood might be that place. Not anymore. Valentine was a ticking time bomb, and the time just ran out.

“Ryder, I didn’t want—”

I could yell at her, but Minnie is close by. “Would you have let that guy near your own daughter?” That’s the rage my mind latches onto even though I’m not sure, even in this moment, that it’s entirely justified. “God, what the hell were you thinking?”

She opens her mouth again, and then closes it, stepping back. 

“Go have your conversation.” I throw the words at her like weapons, and I see the look in her eyes when they land. “Just go, Valentine. We’re done.”

Valentine moves back another few steps, her eyes on me. Well, she can look all she wants. I’m not going to come running back. I’m never going to come running back to anyone. She let me down just like Angie did. She chose something else over Minnie. And over me. 

There’s a part of me that’s screaming to take her in my arms, to hold her close, to breathe in the scent of her hair and let it drown out the terrible wait in that office building, the pictures of my dead ex-girlfriend, all of it. But I take that part of me in my fists and shove it down so deep that I can’t hear it anymore.

I just turn away from her and get into the car, pulling the door shut behind me. I resist the urge to slam it. Not in front of Minnie. No. Not in front of her.

I check behind the car, in all directions, three times before I put it in reverse. I pull carefully backward. 

Valentine has moved over by the curb. She’s still watching the car.

Come after me, that wretched voice calls. Come after me, please, for God’s sake, come after me and never leave.

But Valentine’s shoulders go down, and she turns away, walking back toward him.

Walking. Back. Toward. Him.

I’m done.

I’m done.

When I drive away, I don’t look back.