SEVENTY ONE

SAMANTHA

“Don’t you have any shame?!”

Her voice cracked through the air.

I froze.

So much for hellos.

Macey stood in the doorway like she owned it, fury in every inch of her frame.

Her eyes were wild, arms folded tight across her chest, like if she let go, she might actually throw something at me.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. I just stood there, bare-legged in Mason’s wrinkled shirt, my heartbeat tripping over itself like it was trying to run from the truth.

She didn’t wait for me to answer.

“You’re seriously standing here like this? Like you didn’t just fuck someone else’s boyfriend again?”

I blinked.

No response came. Not because I didn’t have one—God, I had too many—but because I was tired. Embarrassed. But mostly… numb.

Maybe I didn’t have shame.

Maybe I lost it the day I chose him over myself.

“Macey,” I started, my voice dry, throat raw.

“No,” she snapped, stepping inside like she’d been holding back a tidal wave and finally let it go. “No, you don’t get to play soft or sad or whate