Page 63 of Playing Dirty

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goodnight, reed

I should’ve stoppedthere.

Should’ve left it.

Instead I typed:

you coming to tomorrow’s interview?

Pause.

Longer.

Then:

unfortunately yes

I stared at that for a second longer than necessary.

Something about it felt like a challenge.

Or a warning.

Or both.

I typed:

try not to hate me too much

Her reply came instantly:

no promises

And that—

that did it.

I put my phone down.

Because whatever this was starting to turn into wasn’t something I could control anymore.

And I didn’t like not being in control.

Not even a little.

Especially not with her.

Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ROWAN

I didn’t see Mason for three days.

Not properly.

Which should’ve been normal.

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