Mr. Badass ✔

22 Early Morning in California

Gemma's POV.

The snow is still falling.

Finally, a taxi pulls over to the side of the road. Without looking back, I open the door and get into the back seat.

Luke grabs the door, "Where are you going?"

"None of your business."

I reach out to close the door, but Luke places his left hand on the doorframe.

"Let go," I say.

Snow covers his hair and eyelashes. "No. Gemma, listen to me. Please."

"Let go." I don't want to make a scene on the street with him.

The driver glances at me through the rearview mirror, a bit impatient, "Miss, are you going or not?"

He's already started the meter.

"Of course," I reply.

Luke is still standing there, stubborn, his voice hoarse. "Gemma..."

I use both hands to pull the door with all my strength.

*Thud.*

After a dull sound, I hear Luke groan in pain. I turn my head and only see the top of his head. The pain makes him crouch down.

But it worked—he pulled his hand away.

I close the door, fasten my seatbelt, and smile at the driver. "To the airport. Thank you."

The driver glances at me in the mirror, his expression changing from shock to alarm. His tone suddenly becomes unusually respectful, "We'll be there shortly."

It's the early afternoon rush hour, and the taxi weaves through the traffic. Perhaps the driver is too frightened; we actually arrive ten minutes earlier than expected.

I get out, immediately head to the counter, and buy a ticket to check in.

The flight from New York to California takes nearly six hours. Afterward, I take a taxi home.

California is still the same. Compared to the hustle and bustle of New York, the pace here is much more relaxed. But today, it's raining.

I stand at the doorstep of my house, the lights inside are on, and I feel a strange emotion I can't quite describe.

The rain falls harder, water droplets constantly dripping from the eaves, and the air is filled with the damp smell of rain. As I step onto the porch, the slick surface squeaks under my feet.

I knock on the door, and when my mom answers, she's momentarily stunned. "you are back?"

Then, she tightly hugs me, soaked from the rain.

Dad is cooking in the kitchen. Hearing the noise, he lifts the curtain and says that he caught a big fish today. "Perfect timing, now that you're home. We can all eat it together."

Suddenly, I realize I came back empty-handed, without bringing any gifts.

Mom says that me being home is the best gift, and nothing could make them happier.

I nearly shed tears into my bowl.

After dinner, I return to my room.

The rain outside grows heavier, and cold air seeps in through the window cracks. I turn on the heater, and the warmth mixes with the moisture, making the room feel both warm and stuffy.

I wake up several times during the night, and each time, the first thing I see is the window. There are curtains, but from where I lie, I can see through the gap to the deserted tree-lined street outside.