Chapter 39
B uzzing prickles my subconscious, and I know without a shadow of a doubt Ever followed through on her threat of putting a wasp’s nest in my room.
I flex the arm I fell asleep holding my tormentor with, surprisingly finding her still there.
Fuck. She’s gonna get stung.
I instantly fling my body over hers.
Ever gives a sleepy chuckle but doesn’t say anything as I tuck my elbows against her sides, trying to cover as much of her as possible.
Another buzz has me hunkering down, the side of my face pressed to Ever’s. This is gonna hurt so fucking bad. She said you can die from yellow jacket stings but she didn’t say how many. Guess I’m about to find out.
“What is that?”
“Bees,” I grumble, anticipating the first of hundreds of stings.
Ever’s head pops off the bed, nailing me right in my fucking temple.
I say, “Shit,” at the same time she moans, “Ow.”
My pain quickly recedes as I focus on hers.
“Are you okay?”
“Kind of.” Her body wiggles beneath mine, coming out of its slumber. “Why are you on me?” She shoves me off.
Without thought, I attempt to scoop her under me again. “So the bees can’t get you—”
“What? What bees?” she asks, holding me off. And pissing me off. I’m trying to save her.
“The ones you put—”
Hold on. She isn’t scared of the bees. She doesn’t even know about them.
I flop onto my back and look up at the ceiling. I don’t see anything flying around up there.
“Crue? What bees?”
Now that I’m semi awake, that doesn’t make any sense. Ever’s diabolical but she’s smart. She said it herself, she wouldn’t stick around after putting a yellow jacket nest in my room.
“I thought there were yellow jackets…”
“Yellow jackets aren’t bees. They’re wasps.”
That is absolutely not the point here. I don’t think. Jesus, I’m out of it. I must’ve been out cold.
If it wasn’t wasps though, what was that noise?
I shake my head, clearing it some more, then squint over at my nightstand, the light from my phone’s screen barely visible from it being face down. It’s probably my mom. She texts me every couple of days now. Just not this late usually.
Checking it, I frown when I see the notification. “What the fuck?”
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” I tell her before setting my phone back down, face up this time. “Your door’s piece-of-shit sensor’s acting up again. Go back to sleep.”
It hasn’t malfunctioned since Ever started sleeping in my room, so I haven’t had to keep an ear out for that sound.
I pull her back into my arms, exactly where she was, exactly where she belongs.
“Sorry I woke you,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her head.
“You were gonna sacrifice yourself for me, Major?”
If I wasn’t so damn tired, I’d think she was surprised.
“I am your personal protection agent.”
I bury my nose in Ever’s honey-scented hair. We moved all her products over to my bathroom last week because even though she didn’t mind smelling like me, I did. I like Ever to smell like Ever.
Our bodies meld into each other’s again, but not ten seconds later, another notification comes through.
Ever lifts her head again while I give mine a shake.
“Just ignore it.”
“What if it’s somebody?”
I’m about to say that’s highly unlikely until I remember Chef Ryan getting our doors mixed up that one time. Would he really do that again? If he was in a panic, maybe.
Pussy.
Sighing, I get up.
“Stay here.”
Ever snuggles under the covers, probably missing my body heat already. Every night, we fuck hard, then we cuddle hard, our bodies never more than a couple centimeters apart unless one of us is using the bathroom.
“I’ll be right back,” I promise as I tug on a pair of sweatpants.
Out in the hall, the chef is standing at Ever’s door again.
This fucking idiot.
When he hears me call out to him, he spins to face me but his hand placement gives me pause. It’s not high at all, like one would expect a hand to be after knocking. It looks like he was touching the handle.
Something about his pants have me doing a double take as well. They’re not his usual chef’s pants, but I swear I’ve seen them before. I’ve only ever interacted with Ryan on duty, so I don’t know how I would’ve.
Did I run into him outside of the manor somewhere?
“Mr. Brantley, my apologies. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He didn’t? Then why the fuck else would he be at my door in the middle of the night?
“What can I do for you?” I ask him without bothering to correct the name. I stopped after I realized it was a waste of my breath and that I don’t really care what he, or anyone else, refers to me as. There’s only one person under this roof I care about using my name and she moans it on the regular now.
Ryan glances at Ever’s door. “Oh. I was hoping to give Miss Munreaux something.”
So he got the right door, just not the right time. Now isn’t exactly the hour for making social calls.
Actually, fuck that. No hour is right for him to pay Ever a visit. He already gets to see her at meals. If I had it my way, he wouldn’t even get that with her.
“You didn’t knock already, did you?” I ask, knowing full well he did.
His eyes widen as he bobs his head. “Um, yes, I do believe so. Yes, I did.”
I groan like he’s putting us both in danger from the notorious Ever Munreaux, the very one waiting for me to return to her and warm her little ass up.
“However,” he says, all hopeful. “She doesn’t seem to be in.”
“She’s in.” My bed.
Ryan studies me.
I clear my throat and cross my arms over my bare chest, holding one bulging bicep to appear more intimidating.
“She’s probably sleeping. It’s late after all.”
“Right. Yes. That does…uh…make sense.” His gaze drops to the floor.
The pose worked.
I probably didn’t even need to use it on him. Outside of the kitchen, Chef Ryan’s the least threatening guy ever. There’s something about him that keeps me from trusting him though.
“What’d you need to give her?”
“There was a dessert she asked for…”
I filter through all my memories from the last couple days, struggling to find one where Ever asked the chef for anything. She rarely acknowledges him at all, but I can’t remember her saying a single word to Ryan recently.
“I wasn’t aware Miss Munreaux liked dessert.”
“Ah, well, there is this one.”
“Which one?” She’s my protectee. I need to know everything about her, including what I can give her to make her smile. Besides my dick, which she does still put in her mouth even after swearing it off.
“Clafoutis tart.”
“What’s that?”
“A French dish with pitted black cherries baked in a vanilla shortbread, served with a delightful sugarplum crème fra?che.”
Rich people food. Why couldn’t it be a chocolate chip cookie? Something I can get from the grocery store?
“I can take it for you and give it to her in the morning when I see her.”
“Oh…” He half turns his body away from me like he’s searching for something. “I don’t have it on me…um…right now. I was just going to see if Miss Munreaux would be interested in one.”
At whatever the fuck time it is? I don’t even know what time it is but it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s not indulge o’clock.
“You can ask her about it tomorrow.”
His head dips. “Of course. Yes. Good. Again, I apologize for waking you. There was no…harm.”
No harm?
I watch the chef disappear down the hall. It’s at the last second before he turns the corner, catching sight of his diamond-encrusted watch, that I remember where I saw him.
I have to work to close my door softly. When I finally spin to face my room, Ever’s not where I left her. She’s not even in bed. She’s next to it, lingering by the headboard with a stricken expression on her face.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“I don’t know. I just…nothing.” She sits on the mattress, one leg folded under her. “I thought I might have to hide.”
Guilt is practically rolling off her, so I try the arm thing on her, too.
“Did you fuck Chef Ryan?”
She dramatically rolls her eyes in plain sight, clearly not as affected by the pose as Ryan was.
“Did you?” I repeat.
“Are you shitting me right now?”
I drop my arms. “I saw him.”
“It would be worrisome if you didn’t. He serves you meals every day, as well as lives in the same house as you.”
“In the pool house.”
She frowns. “When?”
“My first day here. I knew you weren’t alone.” I point at her. “I knew you were a—”
“Watch what you say to me, Crue.”
“Or what? Huh? You gonna go back to your room and wait for the chef to sneak in again?”
Now she’s standing again, except not on the floor but on the bed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I hold up my phone. “I’ve already caught his ass trying to get in there twice.”
His excuses were bullshit both times. I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known.
Like she’s in a daze, Ever crumples to the mattress, her gaze on the ruffled sheets.
“So it’s my fault?”
I mean, yeah, it is.
Isn’t it?
“Is it?” I ask.
Her head shakes but she doesn’t say anything either way.
Which, unfortunately, isn’t fucking unusual. She opens up to me now, but only so much. Despite us being nearly inseparable lately, she still hasn’t confided in me about Arthur abusing her. Even when I’ve pointed out the absence of those mysterious bruises, she’ll lie and say she was right, they must’ve been from cheer. Except we still do stunts together, almost every evening before our run, and I haven’t made a single mark on her in those spots.
“Ever?” I sit in front of her. “Tell me.”
When she speaks, her voice is distant. “Before you got here, Chef Ryan stayed in the guesthouse. You remember what it was like in there?”
I nod. I wasn’t in it for long but it left an impression.
“You remember the glass over the pool?”
“Yeah.” It’s how I saw Ryan in the pool house.
“I used to see him up there, watching me. It was…” She wobbles her head. “Disgusting.”
I don’t like that word, not from Ever. I don’t like how this story is turning. I’d rather Ever have fucked him willingly than…where I think this is going.
“I tried to ignore it, ignore him . But it was difficult because he would stand right over me sometimes.”
“And just watch you swim?”
“That’s not what it looked like he was doing.”
“What? What did it look like he was doing?”
She finally lifts her eyes to meet mine. “Take a guess.”
I’m shaking my head. “No. I’ve already jumped to enough incorrect conclusions. You tell me. What was he doing up there?”
“Jerking off.”
“You saw his fucking dick out?”
“I didn’t have to. It was obvious.” She mimics a guy masturbating, and yeah, it’s unmistakable.
He had a private viewing spot above the hottest girl in Sea Haven, in nothing but a bikini, and he sexually assaulted her by jerking off right in front of her.
Goddamn it. God-fucking-damn it!
“Why didn’t you tell your dad?”
“I did.”
“You did? And he didn’t fire him?”
“Obviously not, Crue,” she sneers, making me feel like an even bigger dumbass than I already do.
“What the fuck? Why?”
“Because ‘Chef Koch is a world-renowned chef. His food is a delicacy we should be so privileged to experience.’ And ‘if I didn’t like the attention, I shouldn’t seek it out.’”
Arthur knew he had a sick fuck on the property terrorizing his daughter and he didn’t do anything about it. Not only did he put the blame on Ever, but he’s been forcing her to sit in front of Ryan night after night, letting the piece of shit watch her eat.
“What’d you do?”
“That day you saw me in the pool was the first time I used it in months and I only did because I knew he wouldn’t be up there. I didn’t know he was in the pool house or else I wouldn’t have gone in the pool at all.”
I misread her response to my accusation that day. She wasn’t scared of being caught. She was scared of being preyed on again.
I misread everything.
“That’s all you did though? You just stopped swimming altogether?”
She filled my bed with rat traps, my room with bats, for less. Way fucking less.
Why didn’t she retaliate against him? I would’ve.
I, Crue Brantley, a twenty-five-year-old man with more bulk and skill and experience on my side, would’ve. I’m not Ever and it’s not fair to say what she should’ve done. I can’t begin to imagine how she felt at that time.
“Yeah. You know…kind of like how you stopped living.” She peeks at me.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“After what happened with Yasmin, you stopped living.”
I shake my head. “That’s not…” What I did? Yeah, kind of. But why I did it? No.
I don’t think so.
“Yaz wasn’t the reason I shut down and stopped trying in life. The world being against me was.”
“Why did the world turn against you?”
“I told you already. Because they thought I was a predator.”
“But you weren’t.”
“No. Far from it.”
“Because you weren’t the one pushing for sex.”
“No. It was…” I catch myself at the very idea and scoff. “Yasmin wasn’t a predator. She was my girlfriend.”
“How many courtrooms do you think that kind of excuse has been used in? People rape their spouses all the time.” Ever lowers her eyes before whispering, “Labels shouldn’t give anyone free rein over someone else’s body.”
“As true as that is, I don’t think Yaz…”
“Sexually assaulted you?”
I say, “Yeah,” but I shake my head, this whole turn in conversation catching me off guard. We were talking about Ever, not me. I’m a guy. I can’t—
“You were okay with what she was doing to you?”
My head shakes harder. “I don’t… I didn’t say that… I just…felt like I didn’t have any control,” I admit for the first time, even to myself.
Ever asks softly, “What else did you feel?”
“When Yaz was doing that …” I don’t know what the fuck to call it. “I was extremely uncomfortable, bordering on freaking the fuck out. And not just because I was driving, which was not great either.”
I was a new driver, on the road at night, distracted to the point I could barely see through the windshield. Not only was it not great, it was fucking terrifying.
“But also because I didn’t want Yasmin touching me like that. No, okay? That’s the truth. I didn’t. Not while she was hammered. Even though I liked her a lot, I’d already decided not to have sex with her that night. It would’ve been my first time, and I assumed it was hers, too. I didn’t want our first time to be while she wasn’t in full control of herself. I didn’t want any of our times together to be while she wasn’t in full control of herself.”
I was a horny seventeen-year-old boy. Of course I wanted to have sex with my girlfriend, but at some point. When it was right. Nothing felt right once we got in my car. I figured we’d go talk, let her sober up a bit away from the liquor someone had been giving her, maybe have our first kiss.
“Jesus, we hadn’t even kissed yet when she went straight for my dick.”
Ever’s eyebrows draw closer together, but she remains quiet.
“And how did I react?” I shake my head at myself.
Not how I think I would today. Not how most people think someone should in that scenario.
“Probably the best you could at the time. You tried to deescalate the situation,” Ever finally says.
I didn’t deescalate shit. Obviously.
“By laughing it off,” I answer my own question with a laugh just as humorless as the ones in the car that night. “I should’ve pulled over.”
“You don’t know what would’ve happened if you did.”
“But I know what did happen when I didn’t. I crashed into an oncoming car, killing one person and injuring myself as well as another.”
“Crue.” Ever reaches for my hand but I pull it away before she can take hold.
“I don’t know why I laughed. It wasn’t funny.” It wasn’t fucking funny. Not when Yasmin refused to stop grabbing my dick or even sit down after my forced laughter was broken up by my pleas for her to stop. Fuck. Why wouldn’t she just sit down?
“Laughing is a defense mechanism. Your emotions were just trying to regulate themselves so you could continue driving and hopefully get out of a seriously stressful situation. Like I said, you don’t know what would’ve happened if you pulled over.”
“I wasn’t even thinking about that though.”
“Maybe not consciously. But your survival instincts kicked in and made you keep driving.”
I’ve carried a lot of guilt over that night. I’ve carried a lot of guilt over my decisions that night. Maybe I should’ve just given in to Yaz, then she wouldn’t have been so frantic. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to leave the dance with her at all. What did I think was going to happen?
Sex did cross my mind, and had she not been drunk, I probably, honestly, would’ve been down. But she was drunk and I wasn’t down. I thought I was going to spend some time with my girlfriend. That’s it. That’s what I thought was going to happen.
I never could’ve guessed she’d become…whatever she was before the crash. She’d been nothing but respectful until we were alone.
“But my reaction was—”
“Just that, a reaction. It was a response to an action. Yasmin’s action. She was in the wrong. Her action was wrong. Her…”
“Sexual assault.” Fuck.
“Yeah. It was wrong.”
“That’s something I’ve never considered. Never acknowledged. I think because it’s hard to see yourself as an underdog.”
“You’re not an underdog, Crue. You’re a victim.”
“I don’t fit the stereotypical description of a victim.”
“Society wants everyone to believe victims have to look and behave one way, but that’s not true. Guys, at any size, can be victims. Girls, in any state of dress, or undress, can be victims. Anyone, regardless of gender, or age, or what they look like, or sound like, or dress like, can be victims.”
The same can be said for attackers. They don’t fit one mold either. Mine was an introverted teenage girl. Ever’s was a well-respected chef.
One of us spoke up. One of us didn’t. Both of us were blamed anyway. Ever’s father turned it around on her, just like Yasmin’s father did to me.
“I don’t want to be anybody’s victim,” I say. Someone victimized me, but that doesn’t mean I have to continue being a victim, especially not their victim.
“Neither do I.”
“Is that why you put the lock on your door?”
“I didn’t have to worry about it before. He was never in the manor overnight. Until…”
“I showed up.”
Between following orders from her abusive father to unintentionally giving Ryan direct access to her bedroom, no wonder she fucking hated me.
“It’s not your fault,” she says, trying to soothe me. Me. Like I’m the one who needs it.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Ever? Come here.” Without giving her a chance to turn me down, I climb over to her, enveloping her in my arms. I hear a sniffle and it might as well be a seismic wave from my heart splitting wide open.
“Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I treated you like shit.” Although, she did deserve some of my treatment. Even she can admit that. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her arms wrap around me, her hands clasping behind my back.
“I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry your life was stolen from you.”
Was it stolen from me? It felt like that at the time. But now that I realize I’ve been looking at things wrong all along, I’m not so sure that’s what happened. I didn’t fight as hard as I could. I didn’t really fight at all. I was…in shock. From the moment Yaz and I left that dance, everything sped up. My life went from a dream to a nightmare in an instant and it just kept getting worse. I did the same thing I did when I was in the car. I froze. I let my survival instinct take the wheel and I’ve been in a constant loop of nothing ever since, never stopping but never going anywhere either.
“What if you told Arthur about Ryan trying to get into your room? What do you think he’d do?” Because that’s exactly what that motherfucker’s been trying to do. Thank fucking God I’m a paranoid prick and put those sensors in Ever’s room. Even faulty, they’ve kept him from getting to her.
I’ve kept him from getting to her, but the sensor helped.
I’m so grateful it didn’t fail the times he tried.
I squeeze Ever tighter in my arms, sorrier than I’ll ever be able to vocalize.
She scoffs. “Nothing.”
“What if I told him? And showed him proof?”
Pulling back, she looks at me seriously. “Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re more likely to get fired than he is.”
We can’t have that. We definitely can’t have that.
Shit. What else can we do? He cooks food for fuck’s sake. Anybody can cook good food.
Anybody can cook bad food, too…
“Okay.” I bring her back into my arms. “It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of it.”
Even though I’m an absolute jackass for even thinking she’d fuck that loser, Ever relaxes against me.
“How?”
“Don’t worry about it, little bat. It’s my job to protect you and that’s what I’m going to do.”
It’s easier for me to choose not to be a victim. My attacker’s out of the picture, out of my life. But Ever’s is still here, terrorizing her.
That’s why I’m going to get rid of him.
“Don’t get sent to prison.”
“I won’t,” I promise. Only the hospital.