“Fine! Don’t tell me. You’re a fucking heartless wanker, just like always, Dax. Hide behind your macho bullshit, keeping everything bottled up inside like a real man, yeah? Why would I expect you to be any different now?”
A flicker of remorse crosses Dax’s face for a split second. It would seem my tirade has hurt him. In the blink of an eye, it’s gone. He’s back to being the man of stone.
“Don’t act all hysterical, Kate. We knew this wasn’t going to last. Yesterday proved that we aren’t meant to be together. You’re too—”
“Fuck you!” I spit out. How dare he think he’s going to stand in my flat and tell me I’m not good enough for him? “Fuck you, Dax Davies!” I shove at his chest, trying to push him towards the door. His ginormous frame doesn’t move an inch, so I shove again, harder. “Go!” I scream in frustration, my hands trembling from the physical effort of holding in the tears that threaten to fall.
I glance up to find Dax staring at me. If he weren’t here breaking up with me, I would swear I see something else in those dark eyes—heartbreak of his own? But no, he’s the one destroying what we have, shredding my soul and letting the bits fly away in the wind.
He doesn’t deserve to look so miserable when he’s the one being so cruel.
“Just go,” I beg, my vision blurry. I turn my back to him, unable to watch him walk out of my life. A tiny part of me thinks this is some sort of joke, that any minute, Dax’s hand will land on my shoulder and spin me around kissing me senseless while holding me in those strong arms.
The soft click of the door closing tells me that it’s done. We’re done. As I sink down to the carpet, sobbing, my life crumbles to the ground. I always knew Dax Davies would destroy me.
I hate being right.
Dax
“Wow, you look like shit.”
“Sod off, Walker,” I snap from my seat in the kitchen. Annoyed, I pour another lowball of single malt scotch, downing it quickly.
“Whoa! What’s with the whisky?” Gavin asks.
I feel my lip curl up in response.
“Forget I asked, man. If it’s about getting arrested, don’t worry about it. Your record is clean.”
“Like I could give a fuck about my record.” I snag the bottle and tip more into the glass, splashing some on the countertop. “Fuck.”
Gavin puts his hand over mine, gently extracting the bottle. He places it out of reach, knowing full well I can easily get it back if I want it.
He snorts. “I know that’s not true. If you were arrested and found guilty, you could lose your visa. You could lose your ability to travel to the U.S. and other countries. So I know you care.”
“Whatever.” I throw back the rest of the scotch, slamming the glass down on the table.
“Now, what’s going on with you?”
“Are we this fucking annoying when Adam is on the piss?” I ask with a humorless chuckle. I can’t believe I feel bad for getting on Adam’s case all those times, but right now, I do.
“Yeah, we are,” Gavin responds, smiling.
“Shit.” I rub my hand over my eyes. “I broke it off with Kate.”
“You did what?” he yells. “Why? What the hell—?”
Scowling, I glare at Gavin. He’s killing my buzz and I plan on getting good and rat-arsed. “Piss off, Walker. I had no choice in the matter. It’s not like I’m not gutted over it! It was for her own good. I’ll just fuck up her life. Now, give me the fucking bottle back.”
“Not until you tell me why you did it.” Gavin moves the scotch behind his body.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I can get that back you know. Don’t make me hurt you.”
The little shit smirks. “You wouldn’t hurt me. You’re a fluffy kitten underneath all that muscle.”
“Walker, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” I warn. “Now give me the bottle.”
Gavin pushes back from the table and stands to his full height, the whisky still behind his back. “I was at the game, Dax. I saw exactly what you’re capable of. It took four security guards to get you down on the ground and you still managed to hurt a few of them.” Unexpectedly, he slams the bottle down in front of me, making me flinch.
Bastard.
I reach out, curling my hand around the neck, but he doesn’t let go. Our eyes meet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gavin this angry. It’s subtle, but the fire in his eyes is unmistakable.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m half-pissed, or because I never saw it coming, or because, you know, it’s bloody Gavin, but before I can blink he has me down on the floor, pinned in some sort of fucked up ninja hold. One of my arms is wrenched behind my back, my shoulder joint screaming for relief. Gavin’s other hand is wrapped round my neck, doing it’s best to stop the flow of blood to my head. A sharp knee presses down on my lower back.
“What the fuck, Walker,” I hiss, struggling to pull in a breath.
“Go ahead and get drunk. Be a fucking pussy that won’t fight to keep Kate. But hear what I’m saying, Dax,” he leans over, his mouth inches from my ear. “You hurt her again and you’ll have to go through me to do it. I might be just a fag, but trust me when I say that I know how to fight.” He releases his hold and storms out of the kitchen.
What. The. Fuck.
Jesus. I need my mates angry with me like I need a hole in my head. Honestly, Gavin would understand why I broke up with Kate if I told him. But he’s right, I’d rather bury all my shit underneath the tough guy mask I wear everyday than discuss feelings and shit.
Rule 2—Never let your emotions show.
Fuck you dad. Fuck you for fucking me up so much I can’t have a normal relationship with a woman.
I rub my shoulder while I think of all the ways she’s better off without me, even if I could open up to her. Kate’s future is in school, playing football and getting her degree. She should settle down with some wanker accountant and have children and a house and a dog.
Being with me would lead her straight to heartbreak—tabloids, traveling, fame, paparazzi, bloody Lila—Kate’s better than all that crap. Subjecting her to it is cruel. I already made her miss the opportunity to play in an important game on Saturday. I can’t take any more of her future away.
As much as I want to go straight to Kate’s flat and beg her to take me back, I won’t. I’ve always been a self-centered tosser, only interested in my own pleasure. Just this once, I’m not going to be selfish and stay until I’ve cost Kate every single thing she has. Unfortunately, this is the one time it will cost me everything.
55
Kate
“Cheers everyone!” I raise my red plastic cup, tapping it against those of my teammates’.
Everyone in the frat house whistles and whoops at our victory toast. The house of Sigma Kappa Theta, a frat made up mostly of student athletes, is hosting a party for our NCAA Division I Championship slash holiday party since winter break started today. My entire team is here, along with most of the men’s team and a bunch of other jocks.
“To victory!” Myriah, our team captain yells out as a couple of enormous blokes lift her up on their shoulders.
“Having fun?”
I turn to find Wes, one of the few non-footy playing fraternity brothers right next to me, leaning in so I can hear him over the loud cheers and thumping music. We’ve met once or twice before at different parties at the house.
“I am,” I shout back, swaying a little on my feet. Frowning, I hold up my cup. “What is this?”
Wes laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “It’s grain, babe.” I pull my brow down, so he explains further. “Grain alcohol, you know, like Everclear? With fruit juice.”
“Oh.” I giggle, leaning into him. “I have no idea what that is.”
Wes takes my cup, refilling it from a nearby pitcher. “As long as it tastes good, who cares?” He hands it to me, smiling.
I grin back, happy to be free of my worries for a night. I take a big swig of the bright blue drink. “You’re
right. Who cares?”
Dax certainly doesn’t care, and the thought makes me want to lose myself for once, be reckless for a change. Stop being the good girl and have a good time.
In the three weeks since Dax dumped me, this is the first time I’ve socialized outside of practice and classes and I plan on making it count.
Myriah barges into the kitchen, wedging herself between Wes and me. “C’mon, Kate! Be my beer pong partner!” She grabs my wrist without waiting for an answer, tugging me into the living area. Glancing over my shoulder I see Wes with a dark look on his face. It sends chills down my spine. But Myriah doesn’t stop pulling me, so I turn away from Wes and focus on my teammate.
All of the furniture has been pushed to the edges of the room, lining the walls and filled with students who are sitting and talking and laughing. In the center of the space is a large folding table with red plastic cups lined up on each side.
“We’re here,” Myriah says, leading me to our end of the table. I sway for a moment when we stop, having to concentrate hard to keep from falling down. The thought of going tits up in front of everyone makes me giggle.
“What’s so funny, Campbell?”
I look across the table to see two of the men’s footy players smirking at us. Our challengers I’m guessing. I’ve met them both many times before.
A rude noise catches my attention. Wes is standing nearby, glaring at the man who just spoke to me. His hands are clenched at his sides.
What’s his problem?
I focus back on the handsome bloke opposite me. “Nothing’s funny, Chad. Don’t get all cocky. Us girls are going to thrash you.”
Chad winks, holding up a small white ball. Tossing it, it arcs across the table, landing in a cup of beer on our side. Chad’s partner Brent, who everyone calls Bud because of some sordid incident involving beer bottles that no one will explain, high-fives Chad, both of them cheering and dancing.
Myriah snatches the cup, draining it in a few long swallows. She slams it down and wipes her mouth, yelling, “It’s on!” Laughing, I hug my partner, noticing Wes behind her, staring at me. His mouth is pinched and his body seems stiff.
Unsettled, I let go of Myriah, focusing back on the game. All too quickly, I forget about Wes, letting the blissful numbness of the alcohol wash over me. Soon, I have no worries, not Dax, not Ellie, not Wes. There’s only this moment, having fun with friends.
We play until the four of us have had way too much beer and I finally have to admit defeat. Myriah and I just can’t match Chad and Bud drink for drink. Stumbling around the table, I get a touchy-feely, too-long hug from Chad and a fist bump and a belch in the face from Bud.
Shattered, I fall back onto an empty sofa, groaning. The entire room is tilting side to side which makes my stomach queasy. When the cushion next to me sags, I look over to see Wes watching me through narrowed eyes.
My sluggish, drunk brain fails to recognize that something is wrong with Wes’s behavior tonight, not that I know him well enough to distinguish it from his normal behavior. Instead of asking what’s wrong, I give him a weak smile and let my head fall back onto the sofa.
“I’ll take you home,” he says stiffly.
Before I can answer, his arms are around me and I’m being pulled to my feet. “Wha—?”
“You can’t stay here, Kate. Move your feet. I’ll do the rest of the work.” Wes’s tone is clipped, harsh, yet I do as he says putting one foot in front of the other.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask once we’re outside. It’s late, but it’s Saturday night, so there are loads of students walking by on a regular basis.
“We’ll talk about it once you’re in your apartment,” he snaps.
Well what the hell?
I want to be cross with Wes, but the alcohol has me feeling fuzzy, like my body is heavy and my mind is in a fog. I like it and hate it at the same time.
Wes stops to unlock his car doors, then guides me into the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt across my body. He hops in the other side and starts the car.
“Where do you live?”
“Huh?”
“Kate, you have to tell me where to go,” Wes says. I hear him sigh and rustle through my purse. “Is this right?” He holds up my I.D. with my address on it.
I stare at the small card in his hand, my brain struggling to make sense. “Yeah. That’s it.”
I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, we’re in front of my building.
“Are we there? I’m knackered.” It takes most of my effort to open my eyes.
Wes pulls my key out of my purse before coming round to my side and pulling me out of the car. I lean on him heavily as we make our way up to the flat I share with Abby. It feels as if my head is stuffed full of cotton wool.
Once the door is open, I stumble inside, nearly landing on my arse. Wes moves to lift me up, but I stagger to my feet, suddenly adamant in my independence. “I don’t need your help!”
“Kate!” He follows me to my bedroom, trying to help me walk when I find my coordination lacking. “Christ, let me help you!” he barks rudely.
“Why are you so cross? I hardly know you,” I slur, staggering into the tiny space. I flop down on my bed. “S’not my fault I can’t make my legs work right.” A fit of the giggles overtakes me. I laugh until the room starts to spin.
“Kate,” the bed dips beside me and I feel a warm hand slide up my thigh. “I was mad at you. I didn’t like seeing you with the other guys.”
Fear tingles down my spine. Something is wrong. The way Wes is looking at me, the way he’s looked at me all night. Hostile, possessive, lustful… I remember that Abby is home with her family for the holidays and the fear spreads into my heavy limbs, turning into full-fledged panic.
I’m so bloody stupid!
My eyes feel fuzzy. I want to respond, but I can’t. My tongue is dry and too big for my mouth. Apparently there’s plenty of room in there, because Wes’s tongue has joined mine, the weight of his body pressing me down on the bed. His hands skim down my sides, kneading my breasts before moving to the button on my jeans.
No, this isn’t happening. This happens to other people, not me!
The urge to scream wells up inside my throat, but Wes’s mouth swallows any noise I make. He moans, grinding on top of me. I want to fight, to run, to do something, anything, yet all I can do is lie there as I descend into a nightmare.
He shoves my shirt up, exposing my bright purple bra.
“Wes, don’t—”
“Kate, you’re so sexy.” His mouth devours mine again before I can say anything else. I can feel him fumbling for the button on his jeans and my panic ratchets up another notch.
“Wes! Get off!”
He ignores my protests, pushing down his jeans. Suddenly his hands are back, holding my arms over my head. When I feel his hard length against my bare stomach, I begin to cry.
“You feel so good.”
“Please, Wes. Don’t do this.”
Wes doesn’t answer. His grip gets tighter on my hands and his head drops between my neck and shoulder. He thrusts against me again and again as tears run down the sides of my temples.
I can’t move. I can’t think. The alcohol has completely stripped me of my defenses. I’m totally helpless. As Wes grunts and collapses on top of me, I slip away. A wave of darkness washes over me, taking me from this unspeakable horror. I go somewhere where Dax and I are happy and I’m not cold, alone, and left discarded on my bed like the piece of rubbish that I am.
Dax
“Where’s Adam?”
The woman passing by shrugs her shoulders, not bothering to say a word.
All right, then.
I glance around the massive room at Ross’s house. House. I scoff. Right. It’s more like a mansion or an estate. Why I agreed to come to this holiday party, I have no idea. Rachel said it was good for the band to be seen socially with the executives, and since Ross invited them all, it made sense to pop by.
Th
en my mates went and ditched me.
A loud fuss in the foyer has everyone in the room turning towards the front door.
“Holy fuck.” I am struck dumb at the sight before me.
In sashays Lila Griffin, barely dressed per her usual, with a full fucking camera crew following close. One has a boom mike hovering over her head as she walks, a second is trailing behind with a camera, and yet another is filming while walking backwards in front of her, making certain to catch her at her finest.
Murmurs quickly spread amongst the guests, everyone curious and looking to each other for answers no one seems to have—until a nearby man speaks to himself, or to me, I’m not sure which.
“I heard she started filming, but I had no idea she’d be here tonight.” I glance over at the man and then force myself to focus back on Lila.
It’s annoying that I have bother with asking about bloody Lila and her insanity. “What do you mean? Filming what?”
The well-dressed man, who I believe is one of the other talent executives at Ross’s talent agency, huffs out a fake laugh, swirling some sort of expensive whisky in a lowball glass. “Her reality show, of course. Paid for by good old dad. He’s somewhere around here as well.”
Not much can pull a reaction out of me, but that sure does. My mouth drops open in shock. While I gather my thoughts, Lila weaves through the party, chatting with various guests, her ridiculous fucking entourage sticking to her like glue.
“Reality show?”
“Yeah. She always wanted to be famous.” He points at Lila. “Now she’ll get her wish.” As if she knew we were talking about her, Lila’s eyes meet mine. They narrow slyly and her mouth quirks up in a wicked smirk.
“Fuck.” The curse slips out before I can think.
“Gotta go, big guy.” The man slaps my back, downing his entire drink in one gulp and placing it on a nearby table. “Don’t want to end up on that hot mess of a show and she’s coming this way.” Before I can say a word, he’s gone, leaving me to face Lila Griffin alone.