Paige didn’t even look at Embry as she stormed back into the penthouse, dripping wet and leaving a trail of water across the floor. Her chest was tight, her head spinning, and her hands? Shaking. But not from sadness—no, fck sadness. She was pissed. Livid.
She barely registered Embry’s voice behind her—something about talking?—because she was already reaching for the pile of clothes on the floor.
“Talk? Oh, you wanna talk?” Paige snapped, spinning around and chucking Embry’s shirt at her face. “Talk about what, Embry? Huh? About how you’re a fcking bitch who disappeared off the face of the Earth and didn’t even bother to tell me?”
Her voice cracked—just slightly—but she powered through it, bending down to scoop up the rest of Embry’s clothes. Her fingers curled around the fabric like she wanted to rip it apart, but instead, she launched the jeans next, aiming directly at Embry’s legs.
“Or how about we talk about how I spent months wondering what the fck I did wrong? Was it me? Was I not enough? Was I too much? Tell me, Embry, what was it?”
The bra came next, and Paige didn’t even hesitate before flinging it straight at her.
“No, you know what? Fck that. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to hear your excuses or your sad, pathetic little sob story about how oh, poor me, my parents made me move. Boo fcking hoo.”
Paige shoved Embry’s shoes at her last, hard enough that one of them bounced off her arm and hit the floor.
“You want to stand here and beg me to talk? After what you pulled? After this?” Paige gestured wildly between them, her voice rising with every word. “Fcking this—whatever the hell it was? No. Not happening. Not now. Not ever.”
Her breathing was uneven, her skin still flushed from the hot tub, but the fire in her eyes? That was something else entirely.
“So do me a favor, Embry.” Paige’s tone dropped, sharp as a knife. She took a step closer, shoving Embry’s clothes into her arms so hard it nearly knocked her off balance. “Get the fck out before I throw you out.”
Paige’s nails dug into her palms as she stared Embry down, daring her to argue. Daring her to try and explain. Because Paige didn’t want to hear it. Not when the ache in her chest felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.
She took a step back, eyes hard but voice quieter—colder.
“You don’t get to come back, Embry. Not after this.”
And then? Paige turned her back on her, marching straight to the kitchen and grabbing the first bottle of alcohol she could find. She didn’t even bother with a glass—just twisted off the cap and took a long, burning swig, ignoring the sound of Embry still standing there like she might try again.
Because Paige wouldn’t listen. Not this time.