The sentence echoes in my head and my chest tightens. A little girl in a trailer is soaking wet, a hurt expression on her face. My chest burns as I realize it's Harley. An image that burns in the back of my mind every time someone asks me for a f*****g glass of anything.
My stomach clenches and anger drums in the temples of my head. This is too much. All of it. Him choosing her, seeing them in their home. I shouldn't be here.
“I have to go," I reply quickly, dropping the towel.
“What about your session?" June asks, reaching out to me.
“I just remembered I have something to do." I toss over my shoulder, not having time to come up with a better lie.
***
Farrah
“Let me drive you, it's pouring," Professor Prescott insists, coming after me.
He grabs my shoulder stopping me. God his t
