I honestly couldn’t have gotten through these last couple of months without him and Cole by my side.

I might be broken, but our family is stronger than I ever remember it being.

Mom would be proud.

“I know.” He playfully thumps me on the head with the banana in his hand. “Eat this on the way to school.”

Like a moth to the flame, my eyes land on Stone.

Unlike the rest of the students in the cafeteria, Stone isn’t sitting with a group.

He’s a loner who keeps to himself.

Seems we have that in common.

Averting my gaze, I look down at my tray. Today’s lunch is pizza, which is preferable to the usual crap they serve. However, it does nothing to lift my spirits.

I miss him.

Even though I shouldn’t because he’s related to that evil, vile scumbag responsible for Liam’s pain.

I’m about to give up on lunch, but Mercedes and her group of bitches surround my space like ants on a popsicle stick.

Here we freaking go.

The irony. Ever since my mom’s fatal crash, I’ve hated the Mercedes brand of cars.

Turns out the humans aren’t much better.

“Carmen said she saw you at Cluck You the other day.” Before I can remind her it’s a free country and inquire what the big deal is, Mercedes slams her hand on the table, causing my tray to rattle. “I’m gonna tell you this one time, puta. Stay the fuck away from my man or you’re gonna catch these hands.”

I want to ask if she’s blind because Stone and I haven’t spoken in over a week, but that would only give her the impression that I’m bowing down to her.

Fuck that. I’d rather swallow broken glass.

I expel an irritated breath. “I’m sorry. Last I checked, Stone dumped you and he was single.” I give her a sugary sweet smile. “Therefore, he can’t possibly be your man.”

One of her cronies snorts. “Damn, Ma. She got you there.”

“Shut up,” Mercedes snaps before turning her attention back to me. “We’re working shit out.”

I hate the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This is news to me.

She swivels her head. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave him the fuck alone. Don’t make me have to tell you again.”

I could agree so she walks away, but she caught me on a bad day.

“Wow,” I mutter, feigning astonishment.

“Wow what?”

“I’m just surprised is all.” I shrug innocently. “I really didn’t think he’d forgive you for fucking his brother.” My grin is all teeth. “Puta.”

Before I can blink, she picks up my can of soda, pours it over my head, and crushes the can against my skull. “Bitch.”

Gasps and murmurs fill the cafeteria and through my fizzy haze, I see her fingers curl into a fist.

I steel myself, preparing for the impact.

But it never comes.

“Leave her alone,” Stone barks, yanking her away.

Mercedes struggles for a bit, but Stone—and his words—are stronger than she is. “I told you we were done.”

Her expression screws up. “Only because she—”

“Bianca has nothing to do with it. I don’t want you anymore, Mercedes. You need to get it through your thick skull and stop acting like an obsessed stalker.”

“Burn,” someone calls out.

Mercedes’ embarrassment is tangible, even though she’s trying hard not to show it. “Fuck you.” Her eyes harden. “And your small dick.”

The cafeteria erupts in hoots and howls.

Hurt flashes in Stone’s eyes and before I can stop myself, I shout, “No, he doesn’t.” Using the table for purchase, I stand. “Trust me, I’ve seen it.” I give her a wink. “It must be your loose snatch.”

Mercedes lunges for me again, but this time a security guard comes to the rescue and hauls her away.

It’s not long before people focus their attention elsewhere.

Stone’s eyes fall on me. “Are you okay?”

“I have a headache now, but I’ll live.”

He whips off his sweatshirt and hands it to me. “Here.”

Given I’m covered in sticky soda, I gratefully accept it. “Thanks.”

He gives me a curt nod before returning to his table.

Chapter 20

I’m just here to return his sweatshirt.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself as I hobble into Cluck You.

When Sawyer mentioned she was going into work to help feed the homeless after Thanksgiving dinner, I asked if she could give me a ride.

It doesn’t take long to spot Stone. He’s elbows deep in mashed potatoes and gravy. Giving everyone who passes him a hearty portion with a big smile on his handsome face.

Damn him for being kind and ridiculously cute.

Damn my heart even more for swooning.

I try to approach him, but Mr. Gonzales stops me in my tracks. “You…out.”

Dammit.

“Come on, Mr. G,” Stone calls out from his station. “It’s Thanksgiving.”

When it’s clear Mr. Gonzales isn’t going to fold, I add, “I was hoping I could help.”

Well, not really. But hey, why not? It’s pretty crowded and they look like they can use an extra set of hands.

Stone’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely,” I state.

His boss might not be too fond of me, but opening his restaurant to feed the homeless and less fortunate Thanksgiving dinner is commendable and it would be awesome to be part of it.

Mr. Gonzales contemplates this for a moment before he says, “Fine. But today only. No exceptions.” He pulls a hairnet out of his pocket. “Put this on.”

I adjust the hairnet on my head and man the gravy station next to Stone. It’s a little hard to maneuver due to my crutches, but I manage to make it work and fall into a rhythm serving people.

I can feel Stone’s eyes burning into me like hot coals the entire time.

“What?”

His lips twitch. “Nothing.”

That’s bullshit. The look I give him conveys my thoughts.

He scoops some mashed potatoes into his giant spoon. “I just never thought I’d see the Bianca Covington wear a hairnet and feed the homeless.”

“Well, I’m happy to be here.” After spooning some gravy on a woman’s plate and wishing her a Happy Thanksgiving, I decide to come clean. “Although truth be told, it wasn’t the official reason I came here today.”

His expression turns peculiar. “Oh, yeah?” He serves the next person. “So why are you officially here then?”

I cut my gaze to his. “You.” Trying to cover up my fumble, I gesture to my purse on the floor. “I mean, your sweatshirt. I wanted to give it back to you.”

Placing the spoon down, he inches closer. “That so?”

Oh, boy. I’m thankful for my crutches because my legs are most definitely turning to Jell-O.

“Yeah.” I avert my gaze. “I thought you might want it back.”

Fortunately, a few people line up at our stations just then and we quickly get to work loading up their plates.