Lost King Piper Lennox (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📖

my hair, now damp and feeling frozen, to push it behind my ear. “I want to say goodbye right, Ru.”

For the first time in years, I feel it: that single spark of attraction I felt at fifteen, when he scooped me off the ground outside the Durham house.

Then I realize all I’m feeling…is the memory. Not the path growing easier, but my foot landing in a print it already made. We’ve been here before. That’s why it feels so easy.

But “easy” doesn’t mean “right.”

“It’d be great,” he says. I suppress the urge to snort again. Even at his most generous, Callum’s lovemaking style wasn’t what I’d call great. I wouldn’t call it lovemaking, either.

“You’d be a nice…distraction,” I tell him gently, pulling his hand off my chin, “which is one of several reasons I’ll have to decline. That’s not fair to you. I’d be using you.”

“I don’t mind. Least then I’d prove everyone wrong who called me useless.” He winks, and I actually laugh. It’s a faded flash of the friendship we used to have. I miss our jokes, the shy glances at work…the alliance we had as kids of the help, pitted against the kids of the Hampton elite.

But not enough to keep looking for it. I know all that is long gone.

“Before November, I probably would’ve taken you up on that,” I admit with another laugh. It’s a risky confession, but true. “I’m a different person now, Callum.”

His jaw hardens. I watch him step back a little, hands retreating to his coat pockets. “So that’s it? You think you’re better than me?”

“No. I’m better than the old me.”

This comes out with surprising confidence, and I realize it’s true, too. I’m broken to hell, navigating my imploded life with a half-formed backbone...but I’m better off for it. It’s better than what I was before: spineless, numb, and utterly clueless about everything I was missing.

Callum’s eyes darken. “Makes sense,” he breathes bitterly. “Little Ruby got a taste of the good life with that rich prick, and now her own kind isn’t enough.”

“That’s not at all what I said,” I snap. “You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“No, I’m putting some common fucking sense in your head.” He pulls a tin of chew from his pocket and tucks some into his cheek. I hate the thought of all this beautiful snow getting stained with spit, so I motion to the gate. He doesn’t move. “That’s always been your problem, Ruby. You always wanted more. Bigger. Better. But for people like us?”

He sweeps his arms out to the dilapidated, stained fencing around my patio. Every townhouse here has a fence like mine. Cracked, uneven concrete like mine. Drafty windows, worn carpeting, and doors that barely latch. It’s similar to all the places my mom and I rented, every year.

“This is as good as it gets.”

“It will be, for you.” I refold my arms. “Because that’s always been your problem: never thinking it could be better.”

And with that, I spin on my heel and stride across the icy patio to my door. I feel a weird peace I don’t often get after arguments with Callum. Maybe it’s because, deep down, I know this will be the last one.

As soon as I touch the door, I’m yanked backward by my arm.

“Ow! Let me go!” I pull myself back. Pain tears through my shoulder, then radiates down my side when I lose my balance and land against the siding. He keeps my wrist in his grasp the entire time.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me.” His hissing whisper is too hot on my skin. I feel every shredded nail dig into my pulse point as he twists my arm behind my back.

All I can think is, I fell for it again. The new clothes. The clear eyes.

But no—I didn’t. From the moment I stepped out here, I knew better than to believe him. The only reason I decided to hear him out was because I wanted to avoid exactly this: the blow-up when he didn’t get his way. Until I had the law on my side to keep him away for good, I figured it’d be smarter to play nice.

But Callum only plays dirty, so I know I’m not getting out of this unless I do the same.

In the reflection of the porch door, I line up my foot between his shoes.

Then I bring my leg up behind me, hard, sending the heel of my boot right into his crotch.

He falls back with a curse and lets me go. My frozen hands burn as I grab the door and pull it open, then drag it shut behind me.

I panic when it catches on its track. For a moment, all I can think about is how smoothly the doors open in my clients’ houses.

By the time he gets to his feet, though, I’ve jiggled it loose, shut it, locked it, and drawn the vertical blinds. I hear the glass rattling under his fists all the way to the front door.

I’m not thinking. Logic tells me to hunker down and call the police—to do exactly what I’d do if this were tomorrow, when I have that glorious piece of paper legally exiling Callum from my life. But panic keeps my pulse too high and my brain too busy. I’m in flight mode.

My car takes a few seconds to start, sputtering in the cold, but I feel my first real relief when the engine roars to life.

As I follow the road out of the complex, I see Callum outside my back gate, leaving. I don’t know if he sees me.

“Hello?”

“I’m coming over,” I blurt, as soon as Frankie answers.