After five hours of stalking a couple more people on that damn list that Imani had given me, I dropped off Landon and Kai at Landon’s house and tightened my hand around the steering wheel, glaring at Landon through the windshield.
“Get the f**k out of my car,” I said between gritted teeth.
Therapy.
He was one f*****g asshole for suggesting that.
“You wonder why Imani doesn’t like you,” Landon said, one hand on the roof of my car, the other flicking on a lighter to light the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “It’s because you’re a moody piece of shit.”
Before he could continue, I shifted the gear into reverse and hit the gas, giving him the finger through the windshield. Who the f**k did Landon think he was, telling me that I needed therapy?
The only kind of therapy I needed was one
