24. Blocked

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In the comfort of the rustic Santa booth—at a table my elf Janelle and I would be sitting at for the better part of the day tomorrow, my phone rang

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In the comfort of the rustic Santa booth—at a table my elf Janelle and I would be sitting at for the better part of the day tomorrow, my phone rang.

Janelle paused her job hanging garland on the pastoral fence Luke crafted and helped set up in a perfect square perimeter. "Who's that?" she asked, dark brows pinching in the center.

I didn't bother searching for the phone beneath the empty boxes and scraps of eco-friendly wrapping paper I was binding in ribbon. I knew who it was, and I had no desire to speak to him. "Dallas," I answered, "He's been calling all day." Since our last conversation when I told him I was done.

I felt Janelle's green eyes look me over as I cut angrily. "What did he say?" She asked, likely hearing bits of our heated conversation from my room before we left the house.

I huffed. Angry with the ugly crooked square. "He called me a slut."

She blinked, brows raising. "Excuse me?"

"Apparently," I snipped, snatching a small, empty box from beneath the table, one I had the urge to kick with my black chunky heeled foot, "what I did was unacceptable—" slamming it down and grabbing my scissors. "—but what he did was fine."

I felt my blood boil. I was honest about what happened. As soon as we got back, I called to talk because I couldn't alleviate that stone of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I didn't go into explicit detail about what happened on the ice, but I did explain that something had happened between Baker and me. He had the audacity to reem me out after he fucked jersey girl at a house party the same night he mistakenly texted me instead of her. The same night I found out about the flowers.

When Baker apologized.

When I knew Dallas was a lying piece of shit but wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay, honey," Janelle said, barging into my thoughts with her worried tone, "you're going to cut your finger off if you don't calm down."

I'd hardly heard through the blood roaring in my ears.

How long had it been going on? How long had Dallas been cheating on me?

I heard the rumours—I'd seen her around. I knew now that her stupid, gorgeous-looking face was burned in my mind.

I never thought to question it. I trusted Dallas like I trusted Baker, and I scolded myself for being so naïve. I was no stranger to the advances of women when it came to star athletes. Baker received them all the time, but he never acted on any of them. If anything, he was a little bit of a jerk about it, especially when they ignored the fact that I was standing right next to him, but Dallas...

My phone rang again, and I dug through the mess like a fox to a burrow—scrap paper flying—and turned off my ringer. I'd hardly noticed the worry stained across Janell's face, not as I beheld the texts that had poured in.

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