“Dude, not cool.”
The guy next to him voices his opinion. The girl looks at Blake with disgust and takes a step to the side, putting some distance between them.
Logan smiles, and the coldness in his face gives me shivers.
“Yeah, I heard all about it. How you got her drunk on wine coolers and took advantage of her.”
The girl gasps. The guy, Mark, shakes his head but says nothing. It’s clear Blake hadn’t expected me to talk about him.
“Is that what she told you? I remember it different—”
Logan cuts him off and lets go of me, taking a step closer to Blake. I find a small satisfaction in the fact Blake has to look up to keep eye contact with Logan.
“I know the truth about that night. I also know you got kicked out UV for doing illegal enhancing drugs. And that you got caught with enough roofies on you to drug half a sorority house. I wonder how much your daddy had to shell out to clean up that mess.”
The girl steps away from him and whispers, “I’m sorry” when she walks by me.
The other guy shakes his head and walks away too. It’s just the three of us now.
Blake blanches, and his mouth opens and closes as if to deny it, but nothing comes out.
“And I also know about how you cried like the little bitch you are when River told you to leave Skye alone. Man, I wish I’d been there. It must have been epic.”
Logan laughs and shakes his head. Then his posture goes from relaxed to steel rigid and the look in his eyes is deadly.
“But unlike River, I don’t carry a rusty knife. I find it to be too . . . messy.”
He puts his hands on his waist, which opens his jacket, and I can see a holster and his service gun. I know it to be a Glock 22. He told me about it. He keeps his gun under the driver seat of his truck when he’s off duty and driving. I’m surprised to see it on him.
Blake takes notice and pales. I step closer to Logan and put my hand on his back.
“Babe, we gotta go.”
He looks at me, and the coldness is his eyes is replaced with something warm and kind. He kisses my forehead. “Yeah, we do.”
Logan’s hand goes to my back, and as he guides me to his truck, he stops and turns to Blake.
“I’d hate to hear that you’re running your mouth. And I’m sure River would too.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
As soon as I saw that asshole, I knew who he was and grabbed my gun and put in the holster inside my jacket. I had no intention of using it, but I had a feeling this guy needed intimidation tactics. I recognized his face right away from the pictures revealed in my little investigation into him. Having access to police records helps. The guy is a punk. I can’t believe what he said about taking Skye’s virginity. I want to drive my fist through his skull, but I can’t. Because next thing you know, I’d have assault charges against me. Skye is silent, and her eyes flit my way every so often. I’m pissed as hell. I’m pretty sure some of it is showing right now. She’s nervous and embarrassed, even more so than the first time we met.
The few-minute drive is enough to cool me down. I pull into my driveway, put the truck in park, and turn off the ignition. Neither of us makes a move to leave the truck. I take my seatbelt off and turn to Skye. She does the same and looks at me. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. I’m angry all over again.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Skye. You did nothing wrong.”
She laughs without humor.
“I dated him.”
“Yeah, years ago, and I’ve had my share of dating mistakes too. Some of them could make that asshole look like a saint.”
I’m thinking of Amanda. I’ve never talked to Skye about Amanda. If I could take a pill and erase every memory of that woman from my mind, I would.
She smiles at me, but I can tell she thinks I’m joking. Fuck. This will happen. I guess this is as good a time as any.
“I’m not joking, Skye. I dated someone way longer than I should have, and it’s one of my biggest regrets.”
A silent “oh” leaves her lips and curiosity overcomes the sadness in her eyes.
In a flash, being inside this truck feels suffocating and the need to get out and breathe fresh air overwhelms me. This is not a new reaction. Every time I think of Amanda, I want to crawl out of my own skin. I’ll tell her about Amanda, but not in here. I need to get out.
I run my fingers through the curls over her shoulders. Touching her calms me. If Amanda is poison, Skye is the antidote.
“Come on. I’ll tell you about it.”
I open my door, and Skye turns to open hers and is hopping out of the truck before I have a chance to come around and open it for her. I know she’s perfectly capable of opening her own door and taking care of herself, but sometimes, I wish she’d let me do it for her.
We make our way inside my house and take our jackets and shoes off by the door. I realize I’m still wearing my gun and remove it, checking again that the safety is on. I walk to the kitchen to put it in its hiding place, the cabinet above the refrigerator. I grab two water bottles and go back to the living room. Skye is standing near the door, arms wrapped around herself. I hate to see her like this, so unsure of herself.
I put the water bottles on the coffee table and walk to her, put both of my hands on her face, and bring her mouth to mine. I kiss her gently, just a pass of lips, and keep kissing her until her hands grab at my shirt and I feel her relax into me.
Stepping back, I pull her behind me to sit on the couch. She pulls her feet up and sits with her legs crossed. I mimic her.
“I guess it’s my turn to tell you about a terrible ex.”
Her blue eyes are huge on her face and still shiny from unshed tears.
“Where to start?”
“You said you dated her far longer than you should.”
She’s confirming, not asking, but I hear the question anyway.
“Yes, for three years.”
“Three years?”
The way she says it tells me it's longer than she thought.
“Yes, we started dating my first year at Riggins and broke up at the end of my junior year.”
“That’s a long time.”
“In years, yeah, but not in actual time we spent together. Amanda went to Yale. We didn’t see each other much during the school year. We got together on some weekends, breaks, and the summer, but not always. Amanda liked to travel. Her parents are divorced, and she often went to visit her mother in France. Or so I was led to believe.”
“What do you mean?”
“It seems I was the only one who thought the relationship was exclusive.”
Her eyes pop open, the clear blue catching the light from the sconces on the wall. A soft “oh” leaves her lips.
“Yeah, but that isn’t even the worst of it.”
“What can be worse than cheating?”
“Amanda is extremely high-maintenance. I never realized how much so until we broke up and I dated other women.”
Her eyes narrow at me in confusion.
“I don’t understand. You dated other girls before her, right?”
“Yes, I did. A lot, actually, but the girls, and later on, women, in my circle of friends were all very much like Amanda.”
I loathe what I’m about to say next, but if I’m to be honest about myself and my life, this has to come out.
“Most people would say I was born with the proverbial silver spoon in my mouth. And they would be right. My family is wealthy. The families they relate to are wealthy. I attended private schools with kids who were rich and entitled. It was drilled into my brain from very early on that we were better than the rest of the world. I grew up among people who reinforced that idea. My grandparents, the ones who left me and my brother this house, tried to teach us otherwise and gave my brother and me a different perspective.”
Skye listens intently. She’s hanging on my every word. That’s another opposite from Amanda. I
f the conversation was not about her, fashion, jewelry, or gossip about who did what, she was not interested. Looking back, I feel like an even bigger idiot.
“But it didn’t really register until I moved here and started at Riggins. Being around so many people, with all different backgrounds, opened my eyes to all the hypocrisy my family and friends fed me.”
I take a deep breath and run my fingers through my hair.
“I’m not making an excuse for having been an ass growing up. Not at all.”
“You didn’t know any different,” she says.
“You are a product of your environment and the beliefs that were instilled in you.”
My hands fist in my lap.
“Yeah, and add to that the way my father ran us all like a drill sergeant and my eagerness to please him and earn his love, and he had the perfect little puppet in his hands.”
Fuck! I’d said too much. I didn’t mean for it to come out. I glance back at Skye, unsure of what I’ll find. I see no judgment, no pity. Thank God.
“No child should have to earn a parent’s love. There should be no doubt of that love, ever.”
“My grandparents gave me that love. We could be kids in this house. We felt loved and free over here. But we weren’t around many kids our age. We spent a lot of time outdoors with our grandparents. Hiking, skiing, fishing, swimming, playing hockey, and running around like feral kids. It was the complete opposite of the kind of life we had back in Connecticut. My father didn’t much care for our visiting our grandparents. He thought their lifestyle unfit, but now that I am older, I think it was more that he could not intimidate or control them and they had some kind of hold over him. What, I have no idea. And he traveled a lot too. Our mother usually accompanied him. Having our grandparents watch us solved the ‘who will watch the kids’ problem. I’m sure he would’ve been more than happy to hire a team of sitters, but like I said, my grandparents got us instead.”
“I bet you loved that. Being able to spend all that time with them.”
“I did. I loved it. My brother even more than me. Liam was always in trouble with our father. He couldn’t do anything right. I was always a rule follower, didn’t question much. But once I moved out for college at eighteen, I really got to see the world through my own eyes and eventually be myself as well. I didn’t like that version of me very much, and the further I tried to step away from it, the more my father tried to control me. I went along with his wishes for a while. Amanda was another extension of my father, but I didn’t see it. I was a horny teenager with no clue about the real world and had this beautiful woman who claimed to love me.”
“What do you mean by her being an extension of your father?”
“She kept tabs on me for him. She manipulated me on his behalf. Amanda is four years older than me. It flattered me. She knew just what to say and do.”
“You’re not the first teen led by his hormones. You were a kid, and she was an adult. You can’t take the blame in this. If the gender roles were reversed, no one would blame the teen girl.”
“That’s true enough.”
“I don’t understand something. Why would she keep tabs on you?”
“Because her father and my father had plans, business plans that would make them millions of dollars, and I was part of it. They needed someone they could trust to run this company they had plans to develop. And they needed me to do it.”
“Why not just tell you about it?”
“Because the plans they had, and the company, weren’t exactly legal. Amanda was in on it. They needed someone they could control, someone to take the fall if shit went south. Someone they could claim they knew nothing about, because who would believe a father would set up his own son? And through my marriage with Amanda and the prenup they had planned, assets would be under her name and could not be touched if anything happened.”
“Wow!”
“Wow doesn’t begin to cover it. My father was pressuring me to propose to Amanda. He wanted us married before he started the new company. His bullshit reason was to have a solid foundation between the two families. The real reason was to have Amanda closer and able to manipulate me from the inside. She actually showed up one day with a huge rock on her finger and told me it was our engagement ring and she’d send me the bill. I later found out my father had paid for it.”
“How did you figure it out?”
“It was summer before senior year. And I decided to go home and surprise her since I wouldn’t be around during her birthday because I was taking summer classes that year. I went home but didn’t tell anyone about it.”
I have to stop and take a deep breath because the anger at them and at myself for being so blindly stupid still stings after all these years. Skye reaches out and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together and holding them between both of her hands.
“When I got home, Amanda’s car was in the driveway and I thought it would be perfect. I figured she was visiting with my parents and we could all have dinner together.”
Skye squeezes my hand when I pause.
“I was so wrong. I parked my car beside hers and didn’t bother to go through the front of the house. I walked around to the back instead. We have a huge patio outside the kitchen. I figured they’d be out. Mom liked having tea outside every afternoon if the weather was nice, and it was a beautiful day. But when I came around the back, no one was there. The patio door was open, though, and I just went inside. The house was silent. Something in me, a voice in my head, told me to be quiet as well. I made my way into the house. There was no one in the kitchen, the living room, or the library. I checked my father’s office too, but it was empty as well. I remember very clearly how my heart thundered. I didn’t know what I was about to find out, but I knew it wouldn’t be good.”
Her eyes are on me, her breaths shallow in anticipation. Skye squeezes my hand again, encouraging me to go on. I squeeze it back and earn a small smile.
“I made my way upstairs. Unlike this house that creaks and complains when anyone walks around, my childhood home is built with a layer of soundproofing material between the floors. My father built that home that way years before I was born in anticipation of not having to listen to the sounds of children. He’s a big proponent of the ‘children should not be heard’ idea. They never heard me. But I heard them. The bedroom door was wide-open. At first, I thought it might have been my father and my mother, but I knew it couldn't be as soon as the thought entered my mind. So I stood there, trying to get a grasp of what they were saying and what it meant.”
Images fill my mind. Of all the places they could have fucked, why my bedroom?
“They were talking about me. My father and Amanda. And how very close I was to actually proposing to her. They had a wedding date picked, and they also talked about how easy it would be to feed me with false information on the new company. But that wasn't the worst of it. Between the bits of conversation, there were moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.”
One of her hands leaves mine to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“I was in shock. But I knew what I heard. Still, I had to see it with my own eyes. I couldn't leave that house without actually seeing it. I needed more proof. And I got it. I took the two steps I needed to stand in front of the open door. They didn’t see me. They were facing away from me. And there they were. In my bedroom, on my bed, my father and my supposed fiancée and future wife, fucking.”
“Oh my God.”
“I don’t know how long I stood there, paralyzed, my feet frozen in place.”
That room, my bedroom, the only place that felt really mine. The one concession from the designer-decorated house. It still had posters of my favorite bands on the wall. It still had a cork board with pictures from vacations and all the places I visited with my grandparents. My high school trophies and medals next to my favorite books on the bookcase. A jersey draped over a chair from my last visit. And then all the things that didn’t belong. Shoes that were not
mine. A belt. A skirt and blouse. A black bra hanging off the side of the bed. Gray pants, a white dress shirt, a tie. All strewn across the blue carpet I used to lie on and do sit-ups and push-ups every morning when I woke up. That place, the only place that felt like mine in that house, was forever tainted.
There are tears in her eyes now. Tears for me. No one ever cried for me before. I wipe them with my free hand, running my thumb over her cheek.
“They just kept at it. Fucking and talking about their plans for me. And I stood there. I was a kid up to that moment. Still trying to earn my father’s love and approval and living a life where most things were just handed to me.” I shake my head as if I could get rid of those memories.
“The blinders fell off that day. I saw my father and Amanda for who they really are. I realized then I’d never be more than a pawn for my father. I left. They never even saw me. I drove back to Riggins. I was torn, and I realized I had no one I could talk to. I had dozens of friends and didn’t trust a single one of them. They were party friends, good times friends. Even my teammates felt like strangers. The only two people who could understand me were unreachable. My brother, somewhere in the Middle East, and my grandma in Florida, still mourning Grandpa’s death.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I stole my father's prized bottle of whiskey on the way out, but I didn’t even get drunk. I didn’t want to numb it with alcohol. I wanted to feel every ounce of pain and disappointment and have it burned into my memory so I’d never make the same mistake again.”
Her eyes are full of pain. Skye’s the first person I’ve told the full story. A part of me is still ashamed. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have never seen it? I’ve gone over it again and again. I analyzed every interaction with Amanda, with my father, and even my poor mother, who’s just as under his thumb as I had been.
“A couple of days later, my mother called me to find out if I’d make it home for the weekend. I told her I couldn’t make it, that I had tests I needed to prepare for. Which was true enough. Amanda called, and I ignored it. She texted me, and I ignored it. This went on for a couple of days. My father called then. I ignored him. Kept sending his calls to voice mail and deleting them without listening. It went on for a whole day. He’d never been one to text, but my lack of response must have pissed him off enough to text me. He berated me for not answering his and Amanda’s calls. I was still staring at that message when my phone rang again. I answered him this time. Before I had a chance to say anything, he laid in on me. Called me all kinds of names and how dare I hurt my fiancée’s feelings. I listened to the whole tirade in silence. He went on for minutes until he noticed my silence. Whenever I pissed him off, and it happened often enough, I’d be apologizing as he yelled at me. That was our MO, from the time I was a little kid. My silence finally got his attention, and he asked me if I had nothing to say for myself, and I said yes.”
Because of Logan Page 15
