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“Were you fucking her when we were dating?”
“No. It’s not like that.”
Micah turns to Harlow, his lips curling back in a sneer. “Is that it? You were fucking him behind my back?”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide with fear. “Micah, we didn’t?—”
“Right. So, it’s just a coincidence?—”
“It is!” Harlow cried. “I hadn’t even seen your father until he was brought into the ER a few weeks ago. It was just?—”
“Shut the fuck up. You’re a fucking liar.”
“She’s not lying, Micah,” I tell him firmly.
“Yeah. Right,” he growls. “Fucking bitch.”
“Watch your mouth, Micah.”
“Or what? What are you going to do about it?”
“You really don’t want to find out.”
Micah shakes his head. His face is red and his features are twisted with fury as he looks from me to Harlow, then back again.
“I don’t fucking believe you,” he spits. “How can you do this to me?”
“I’m not doing anything to you, Micah,” I tell him, my voice hard. “You and Harlow haven’t even been together for a while. This isn’t about you.”
“You’re a piece of shit,” he says, his eyes narrowing to slits. “What kind of father steals his own son’s girlfriend?”
“I’m not your girlfriend, Micah,” Harlow says. “I haven’t been for a long time.”
“I didn’t ask you. Just shut your slut mouth.”
Anger surges inside of me and I step forward, my hands balled into fists at my side. “I told you. Watch your mouth. I will not tolerate you speaking to Harlow that way.”
Micah rounds on me, but instead of speaking, he throws a fist that catches me flush on the left side of my head. It surprises me more than it hurts, but the sharp crack of his fist meeting my face pulls a shocked and scared yelp from Harlow. My vision turns red and every cell in my body hums with an angry energy. Before I realize what I’m doing, I grab Micah’s shirt with both hands and slam him into the wall behind him so hard it drives the breath out of him.
“Hunter, don’t—” Harlow calls.
Micah’s eyes are wide, and there is genuine fear on his face as he stares back at me, seemingly shocked that I’d put my hands on him. I’m not about to let him speak about Harlow like that. Just when I think my point has been made, the fear melts away from Micah’s face and is replaced by an expression of pure hatred and disgust.
“You can have the whore,” he growls. “I was done with her anyway.”
I know that he’s lashing out. I know that he’s just trying to get under my skin and say something he thinks will hurt me. Well, he’s gotten under my skin all right. His words don’t hurt me. No. They enrage me.
Before I can stop myself, I slap him across the face. I don’t even realize it until the sharp crack of my open-handed slap rings in my ears. It sounds like a baseball hitting an old leather mitt and is quickly followed by a gasp from Harlow and a pained squeak from Micah, who puts his hand over a cheek that’s burning a bright, angry red from my slap.
“What the fuck?” he gasps.
“I told you to watch your fucking mouth.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“It’s time for you to go, Micah.”
“Fuck you.”
