Eleven
Phoenix
We’re a week away from Founder’s Day. I chop up some vegetables in an attempt to make a meal that Austin gave me the recipe for. He says it’s quick and easy, but so far, I’ve been cutting and chopping ever since Maverick got home from school.
“How is it going with Chad Billings?” I ask.
He puts his pencil to his paper. “Fine.”
“Fine? Like in he’s still bothering you?” The carrot slips off the cutting board and falls to the floor. Ignoring it, I pull another one out of the package and half it like Austin said.
He looks around—for Griffin, I assume, but he ran out to FedEx. Said it was something he had to do on his own.
“Your dad isn’t here.”
“I paid him.”
Another hot burst of anger flows through me. I’m starting to see why Rome is the way he is with his kids. I place
