So Wrong: A Why Choose Sports Romance (Boys of South Chapel Book 1)

32. Greedy

“When?” I demand, pushing my plate away and rising to my feet. I’ve completely lost my appetite. I’ve got much bigger concerns all of a sudden.

“Garrett—”

“Answer me. When is she expected to arrive?”

I’m being rude. Disrespectful. I normally wouldn’t dream of speaking to my father like this.

He probably thinks this is about my personal vendetta against Magnolia St. Clair-Ferguson.

In reality, this isn’t about her. It isn’t about the way she swooped into our lives and tried to erase all memories of my mom, then left my father for months at a time as she traveled the world on his dime.

Turns out Magnolia didn’t want to be a doctor’s wife. She just wanted the fringe benefits.

I hate how she treats him. I loathe that he allows it.

But this is so much bigger than them. It’s so much bigger than me.

This is about Hunter.

“When do you expect her to arrive?” I ask again, this time through gritted teeth. My patience is wearing thin.

Last I knew, she was in Spain. I keep tabs on her via social media. Try to make sense of her posts, her travels. Search for clues every time she unceremoniously crops back up on my feed.

She has a strange power over Hunter. One she wields with precision. Her words cut. Her actions maim. Magnolia St. Clair-Ferguson has the ability to unravel the one person I care most about in this world. That’s why I hate her.

That’s also why I need to know when she’ll get to town. I have to get to Hunter before she does.

Phone in one hand, I dig my valet ticket out of my pocket. I have everything I need. Except an answer to the most important question.

“When is she coming, Dad?”

“She arrived this morning,” he admits sheepishly. “She’s at the house now.”

Motherfucker.

I’ve got to get to Hunter first. I’ve got to get to Hunter now.

I’m going well over the speed limit down the two-lane highway, but I press it harder.

I can’t get a hold of Hunter, but that isn’t unusual. She sends me to voicemail or leaves me on read most days.

Levi, though, is usually better about answering. Only tonight, he’s not picking up either.

Fuck, I hope they’re still out somewhere together. Not at the house. Anywhere but the house.

That hope is dashed the instant I pull into our driveway. Hunter’s car parked in its usual spot, next to the truck Levi’s been driving. The rest of our vehicles, aside from my dad’s car, are accounted for.

I come to a stop and slam my fist into the steering wheel, struggling to control my breathing.

Maybe Magnolia stepped out.

Maybe she called a car service or went out with friends.

Maybe…

Fuck.

I know in my gut none of those situations are likely. I’m not calling this game. I’m running defense with an outdated playbook.

With a sharp breath in, I will my pulse to level out and pull myself together.

Eyes closed, I focus on my breathing, but a vision floats through my mind, causing my anxiety to spike again.

I throw the car into reverse, pull halfway down the driveway, then park again, this time at an awkward-as-hell angle, essentially trapping all the other cars in the driveway.

If Magnolia is back, and Hunter was blindsided by her arrival, she’s a flight risk.

Again.

I refuse to let her disappear from my life.

Not like last time.

Not ever again.