“Run along then, River. Take your little slut and your bastard home. I hope you enjoyed your career, because it’s fucking over.” She lifted her chin to the left, and I spotted the pap, his camera raised. Then I noticed all the other people with their phones pointed at us.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I hustled a shocked Nova back to our car, taking Huey from her shaking hands and putting him back in his car seat. Driving away, I cursed under my breath. This was so fucking bad.
Nova was staring straight ahead, not meeting my eyes.
“Nova…”
I could see the angry red mark of Marissa’s hand, the thin lines of blood where that bitch’s nails had scratched her. I’d screwed this up already. I knew happiness wasn’t meant for me. I’d just forgotten.
I wouldn’t forget again.
ChapterThirty
NOVA
I was sittingin the living room on Rigby’s lap, a cold pack being held to my face kind of unnecessarily. But River wouldn’t take no for an answer. I was a bit in shock. My heart was still racing, and adrenaline made my skin somehow both cold and tingly, which shouldn’t have been possible.
River was in his office on the phone, but I could hear the heavy footfalls of his pacing. Rigby was silent but tense. He was furious. I could tell he was livid—despite the loose way his hands stroked my spine, and the soft words he spoke to me, the sensation of pure outrage poured off him.
Huey had been unsettled, but Rigby had fed him and put him down to sleep in the portable crib we kept in the living room. Other than grumbling, he’d been perfectly fine while I’d stood there like a fucking statue as some lady slapped the shit out of me.
Though she wasn’t some lady. She was an ex of River’s. Someone who he’d kissed, had sex with, eaten meals with. Someone who thought he was her boyfriend.
I shook my head, and Rigby held me tighter. My phone was going nuts, but I knew it was probably the group chat. “Are you okay, Fireball?” he asked softly.
I nodded. Technically, it was true. I was okay. No one ever died from being slapped. I had some serious regrets about not punching the bitch back, but I told myself I’d had Huey strapped to my chest. In all honesty, though, even without the baby, I probably wouldn’t have retaliated unless really necessary. I wasn’t a fighter, no matter how disgusted in myself I was right now.
Shrugging, I flopped back against Rigby. “It’s not like I ever thought you guys were saints. You’ve obviously got ex-girlfriends, and statistically, some of them had to be crazy, right?” He huffed a laugh, but it seemed forced.
The front door opened and Devan strode in, his eyes wild. He saw me on the couch and pulled me out of Rigby’s arms. Gently gripping my chin, he turned my face to the side and hissed an angry breath between his teeth at the faint mark still there.
“I’m going to sue her so hard, she’ll have to live in a cardboard box under a fucking bridge,” he seethed. He grabbed my hand—the one still holding the ice pack—and moved it back to my cheek, even though the cold hurt worse than the sting now. “But first, I’m going to beat the shit out of River for being a fucking pussy-blind dumbass.”
He stormed off, and I looked over my shoulder at Rigby. “Should you stop them?”
Rigby just shrugged and pulled me back into his lap. “Nope. It’ll make them both feel better.”
I huffed. “Rigby Engman, you never told me that I’d have to drown in testosterone when you were pitching your polyamory freaking solution.” I slid from his lap. “Stay!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he teased.
“Good boy.” His cheeks flushed, and he looked away. I hadn’t been prepared for quite how hot I’d find Rigby’s praise kink the other night, but even thinking about it made butterflies alight in my stomach.
Deciding now wasn’t the time to be aroused, I walked out of the living room and toward the office space the guys shared. Mostly Devan used it, but sometimes the guys would do video meetings and shit in there. I crept down the hall, not wanting to interrupt River if he was still on the phone. And maybe a little because I wanted to know what they were saying without monitoring their words around me.
“How was I meant to know the bitch was a psycho? The NDA was meant to protect me. Protect us,” River grunted.
“You and your fucking need to date crazy-ass bitches was always going to cause us problems in the end. The problem is that she isn’t giving a tell-all fucking interview. No, she’s setting you up. Setting Nova up.”
There was a huge sigh, though I wasn’t sure which of them it was coming from. “She said someone told her we’d be there. I don’t think Marissa knew ahead of time that I was going to be there. Someone tipped her off.”
A chill went down my spine. “You think you have a stalker?” Devan’s surprise was evident.
Whatever River said next was too soft for me to hear, but the next bit was clear. “Unless my stalker is a pap, I doubt it. Someone was there, ready with the camera. They knew there was going to be a problem, though how the paparazzi would know about Marissa, know she’s fucking crazy, know where I’d be at the park, that’s the real question.” There was a long pause while they pondered. “You think I should, I don’t know, bow out from this thing with Nova? She doesn’t need me to drag my fucking issues to her doorstep. She doesn’t deserve that.”
I bit my lip to prevent myself from gasping. At the same time, I heard Devan’s derisive snort. “Nut up, bro. Nova isn’t your parents. She isn’t going to run away emotionally if shit gets hard. We both know that. You’re just worried that she’s going to reject you, but I promise you that if you don’t give this a chance—givehera chance—you’ll regret it forever.”