Winning the Heir Who Bullied Me novel Chapter 159

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“Have you seen him yet?”

Penny doesn’t need to clarify what I mean, who I’m talking about.

Her face tightens with emotion–the kind a mother would have looking at her bruised son.

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“Yeah,” she answers.

I drop my head, staring at the milky darkness of my second cup of coffee. “How is he?”

She sighs, slow and heavy. “Not good.”

My chest tightens. “He was breathing wrong, like his lungs or ribs-”

“A bruised rib,” Penny says. “But his lungs are fine.”

I exhale. “Okay…good.”

A stifling silence blankets us, and my tongue grows heavy with the questions I want to ask.

Did he confide in you? Did he say anything about me? Like maybe why he so callously ripped my heart out of my chest when I know for a fact

that he loves me?

“I’m worried about him,” she says softly.

I shrug.

“I’m worried about you, too.”

I shrug.

“April…”

I force my head up and give her a smile that is so blatantly strained.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

My breath hitches. How can I tell her what happened when I don’t even know myself?

“1-”

“Do you have to take Junebug away?”

I turn on my stool, arching a brow at the little boy who stands at the doorway.

He has a wild mess of curly hair, a little shorter than his sister’s, and a scowl instead of the bright smile she wore earlier. My gaze drops

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Chapter 159

to the thing he’s clutching, and my eyes widen slightly.

Bun Bun.

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June doesn’t let anyone but me touch that bunny.

“Jamie,” Penny says carefully, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it, “June has to go home.”

He shakes his head. Once. Firmly. “Her home can be with us.”

Penny sighs. “Sweetie, this isn’t the last time you’ll see June. She’ll come visit all the time.”

“It’s not enough,” he retorts, his face folding into a deeper scowl.

“Jamie.” Penny’s voice is slightly sterner. “June is going home, and that’s final. I’ll arrange play dates with April.”

His dark eyes slip to me, and my eyes widen at the rush of anger I see in them. “I hate you,” he declares, and then spins on his heels.

I gape, staring at the space long after he’s gone.

“Oh, God, April. I’m so sorry,” Penny says, wincing. “He…feels a lot. And he doesn’t like a lot of people, but once he does, he holds on to them really tight. He and June have grown very close in such a short time. I think he believes he’s being abandoned.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I get it.” I shrug. “I have a hard time letting go of June, too.”

Penny laughs and leans in. “I think he has a little crush on her.”

“Yeah?”

She nods.

“You should see them together, they’re adorable.”

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“So…” I start later on the drive home, glancing at June from the corner of my eye. “Junebug, huh?”

June looks at me, and immediately averts her gaze. “It’s stupid,” she mumbles. “Jamie calls me that because he says I’m a pest.”

I snort. “And yet, he didn’t want you to leave.”

She shrugs, playing with a folded paper in her lap.

“And what’s that?” I ask.

Her cheeks redden. “Me.”

“You?”

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She gingerly unfolds the paper, and my eyes widen. It’s a sketch of June done with colored pencils. She’s asleep on her side, her hair sprawled around her.

It’s such a careful, detailed drawing, and I can’t believe a ten–year–old made it.

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I’m torn between awe of the quality of the drawing and being slightly disturbed that Jamie was watching my sister sleep long enough to

draw her.

Oh, he definitely has a crush on her.

“That’s…interesting,” I say, my lips stretching.

She shrugs again, folding it up carefully.

“I noticed he had Bun Bun,” I say. “Did you give him?”

She–for the millionth time–shrugs. “He has bad dreams, and since I won’t be there anymore, I thought Bun Bun would help.” She says it

so nonchalantly, like the stuffed pink bunny hasn’t been her most prized possession since she was three.

“That’s very sweet of you, Summer,” I say, reaching out to stroke her hair.

“Did you mean it,” she says, “when you said I could see them again?”

I nod. “Yeah, I meant it. You can see them as much as you want.”

Her face lights up. “Jackie says I’m her best friend.”

“Really?”

She nods. “I think she’s mine, too. After you, of course,” she adds

I laugh. “Good. I thought for a second there you were replacing me.”

She shakes her head. “I could never.”

She reaches over, and her hand covers mine on the steering wheel. “You know that, right?” she says softly.

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