Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
RAINE
C ars line both sides of the street as Drake finds a place to park. We’re in a neighborhood. A random neighborhood so far outside of Cedar Springs’s city limits it’s not even funny. Drake invited four of his friends to join us, though they drove separately, leaving me as the lone girl. It isn’t the first time, but knowing we’re deep in Lockwood Heights territory doesn’t exactly leave me feeling relaxed. Not after the last time I was here. Not after Everett tracked me down at work and offered to help me. Not when I know how much Drake hates LAU and everything about its small town.
So, what are we doing here?
“Come on.” Drake pushes the driver’s side door open, climbs out, and rolls his shoulders in his black T-shirt and leather jacket while staring at the house in front of us. It’s a duplex. A really big, duplex. With red brick, cream stucco, huge windows, and a large tree out front. One side is dark, and there’s a huge dumpster out front, making me wonder if it’s being renovated or something. The other side? It’s practically spilling over with bodies despite the cold temperature. The door might as well be propped open with how many people move from outside to inside and back again. The blinds are all open, and the windows are glowing, giving everyone on the street front-row seats to dancing, laughing, and cups raised in the air.
Yeah. This is definitely where the party is.
Slipping his arm around my waist, Drake guides me up the driveway, and his friends meet us at the front porch, each of them flanking his sides as we step over the threshold. Why does this feel like a test? Something lodges in my esophagus, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs.
Something is up. Something is definitely up.
I peek at Drake.
What game are you playing?
No one notices when we enter. Why should they? It’s a party. A huge party, packed to the gills. So why am I freaking out right now?
“Johnny, get us some drinks,” Drake orders. Johnny St. James. The Grizzlies’ center.
Slipping through the crowd, Johnny heads toward the back of the house without a word. This place is nice. And big. A set of stairs hugs the right wall, and a family room takes up the majority of the left. A kitchen is tucked in the back, while a hallway hides behind the stairs. White walls. Tall ceilings. The scents of cheap beer and fancy perfume permeate the air.
When I’m bumped from behind, I run into Drake’s back, and he turns around, glaring at whoever’s behind me. “Watch it.” His attention catches on something else, and he grins, turning his amused stare to me. “Dance with me.”
Curious about what turned his frown upside down, I start to look behind me, but he grabs my wrist and drags me toward the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the family room without asking for my permission. Most of the furniture is pressed against the walls, leaving space in the middle of the floor for dancing, but all I do is stand here and look around. The music’s so loud it’s hard to think straight, let alone keep up with Drake’s mood swings. He hates dancing. Always has. And parties? Yeah, he’s all about a good party, thanks to his access to free alcohol, but why here? Why Lockwood Heights? Something doesn’t add up.
“Come on,” Drake urges. Grabbing my hips, he yanks me against him, grinding into my ass like he’s already had three drinks and is hoping to get laid. I can’t tell if it feels forced because I feel as stiff as a board or if it’s because he’s actually being forceful. I guess that’s what happens when the person you’re supposed to trust—to love—hurts you, shredding your trust into a billion tiny pieces, then expecting them to be glued back together after a single apology and a couple dozen roses.
Okay, a single apology is a stretch. Drake has apologized for hitting me at least a dozen times since the incident.
God, even the word incident leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
He hit me.
My boyfriend hit me.
And here I am, pretending like I can let it go. Like he deserves for me to let it go. For me to sweep it under the rug like all the shitty things he’s said and the times he’s grabbed me too roughly or shoved me out of anger. Whether it’s at me, or a shitty grade, or a bad game. It doesn’t matter. I’ve always been the one to deal with the fallout and pick up the pieces. Giving him an out. A justification.
It’s why I finally swallowed my pride, scrounged up some courage, and tried to break up with him. Why I tried to end things. And what did he do? He blocked the exit, refusing to let me go. And when I tried to scoot past, he sucker punched me, then threatened to do a lot more if I ever attempted to leave him again. And the truth is, I believe it. I don’t doubt him when he says he’ll do anything to keep me all for himself.
How did I get here?
“Come on, baby,” Drake rasps against my ear. “Loosen up.”
Loosen up? The guy expects me to be loose around him after he’s hit me? Is he really this delusional? And why is he being so pushy and acting so strange? I’m missing something. I know I am. But if I don’t play along, if I don’t dance, I’ll never figure out what it is. Closing my eyes, I let the rhythm of the song blasting through the house roll over me and force my body to move with the beat when Drake’s grasp on my waist tightens, and my eyes pop back open.
That’s when I see him. Everett. He’s standing on the side of the room, watching me. Watching Drake’s hands as they trail down my body. Watching how my hips sway and the way Drake’s lips move against my ear as if he’s whispering sweet words instead of sharp orders.
“Why are you so frigid, baby?” He grabs my waist. “Loosen up.”
It makes me feel…dirty.
Turning around, I slide my hands along Drake’s chest and loop my arms around his neck, urging him closer when all I really want to do is push him away. “I need to use the restroom.”
“Nah.”
“I’m serious, Drake,” I argue. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
He pulls back slightly, his dark gaze narrowing. “Fine. Be back in five, or I’ll come looking.”
Of course, he will.
With a nod, I step away. He lets me go, but I can feel his focus on me as I weave between the throngs of people and find the hallway I hope leads to a bathroom. Before I can make it, a familiar face appears, and my breath stalls.
“ No one ?”
It’s Griffin. The guy from the arena and the ESPN specials.
My brows bunch at his question. “What?”
“You introduced yourself as no one when we met,” he reminds me with a smile.
“Oh. Uh, my name’s Raine.”
“Nice to see you again, Raine,” Griffin returns. “Does Ev know you’re here?”
Glancing behind me, I gulp. “Probably.”
He nods. “What are you doing here?”
“My boyfriend brought me.”
His amusement falls, and he looks behind me, taking in the family room and kitchen. “Any chance he’s here to pick a fight?”
“I’d say the odds aren’t small,” I muse.
A low curse slips past his lips as Griffin scans the party again. “Great.” Looking back at me, he adds, “Maybe stay here for a few.”
“Probably a good idea,” I reply. “Where’s the bathroom?”
He hooks his thumb toward the closed door on my left, then heads to the main area, leaving me alone. It’s probably for the best. If Drake caught me talking to Griff, it would give him a reason to go off. But maybe it’s the point? There’s no way he didn’t know who this house belongs to. Add to the fact he brought his hockey friends with him, and the pieces are finally clicking into place.
Here, I thought I’d gotten off scot-free from the arena altercation. Joke’s on me, I guess.
My hand trembles as I knock on the bathroom door, anxious for a hiding place. Instead, I’m greeted with, “One sec.” Resting my back against the wall, I pull my phone out and bring up Everett’s contact information as I wait. I can’t decide if I should message him and apologize for coming to his house when I had no idea he lived here or if Griffin’s taking care of all of it and I need to hide away for the foreseeable future.
Or, you know, indefinitely.
What was Drake thinking? Is it because he found out Everett infringed on his territory, so he feels like he has a right to infringe on Everett’s?
What the hell am I thinking? This isn’t West Side Story . There aren’t territories at all.
Are there?
As the door opens, another familiar face appears, and his brows tug. “Raine?”
I tilt my head up and nearly choke on my breath. “Reeves?”
Seriously? Can I not catch a break?
“Give us a minute,” a low voice growls behind me. I peek over my shoulder and find an indecipherable Everett behind me. He looks good tonight. Dark hair pushed away from his face. Same chiseled jaw I remember. Black T-shirt. Low slung jeans. Full lips. Blue eyes demanding my full attention. They’re so…astute? So bright, yet dark at the same time. It’s confusing, and makes him even harder to read than the last time we spoke, which I’m pretty sure is just my luck, considering the circumstances.
Ignoring me, Reeves addresses his friend. “Thought you said she didn’t want to hire you anymore.”
“Apparently, I got under her boyfriend’s skin without the contract,” Everett answers dryly.
“Is he here?” Reeves asks over the top of my head like I’m not sandwiched between them. It kind of makes me want to throat punch the guy .
Giving Reeves a slow nod, Everett squeezes the back of his neck. “And he brought four buddies.”
“Damn.” With a low whistle, Reeves looks at me again. “He must be really possessive of you.”
“Maybe this isn’t about me,” I lie.
“And maybe you’re full of shit.” Reeves starts to slip past me but stops at the last second. “Take it from someone who’s been down this road a time or two. Playing by his rules won’t get you any farther in life, and it won’t prevent the fallout, either.”
“Who says there’s a fallout?” I challenge.
“You came to me for a reason, Raine,” he reminds me.
He’s right. I did. But admitting it out loud feels like I’m caving. Like I’m giving in. Like my life really is spinning out of control and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I lift my chin higher, holding his knowing stare. “Maybe I was curious.”
“Nah,” Reeves tsks. “Fear led you to me. And fear is holding you back from trusting my buddy enough to let him help you.”
“I…” I fumble for a response, but he walks away before I can muster any actual words. Shaking my head, I step into the bathroom, anxious for an escape, when the heat of a body follows and the click of the lock rings throughout the small space.
Twisting around, I scowl at a surprisingly stoic Everett “What are you doing?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“He told me he wanted me to come to a party,” I explain. “He never said it was yours.”
“He’s trying to prove you’re his.”
I open my mouth to argue but close it quickly. Seriously, what is wrong with my brain today?
“Not gonna deny it?” he challenges .
“My relationship with Drake is complicated.”
He scoffs. “He hits you.”
“ Hit ,” I argue. “Singular. It happened one time.”
Another angry scoff rumbles through his chest. “That’s how you justify it?”
Blinking back tears, I shake my head back and forth. “I’m not trying to justify?—”
“It’s exactly what you’re trying to do.”
“You don’t get it!” I snap.
“What’s there to get, Raine?” Everett prowls closer until my back hits the wall behind me with a quiet thud. He doesn’t stop until we’re chest to chest. Eye to…nipples. My heart thuds faster and faster, making me feel like the walls are closing in as I gulp thickly.
Sensing my spiral, Everett’s eyes narrow, and he growls, “What’s wrong?”
He’s taller than I realized. Hotter, too. Literally. I can feel his heat branding me as he pins me to the wall.
Breathe , I remind myself, forcing my gaze to meet his.
“Seriously, what’s wrong?” he asks.
“You’re scaring me,” I whisper.
He jerks back and lifts his hands in defense. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He drops his hands and looks around the room. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“Only corner me in a bathroom, right?”
“So now I’m the bad guy?” he volleys back. “Me? Not the guy you were grinding against in my family room?”
“I already told you my relationship with Drake is complicated.”
“It’s not that complicated.” He inches forward again, but I realize it isn’t to try to intimidate me. He’s just…passionate. And confused. Honestly, he’s not the only one.
Why does he care, anyway ?
“He hit you,” he pushes. “No one should ever hit you. And here you are, defending him.”
“I’m not?—”
His minty breath hits my cheeks as he bends closer. “You are.”
The same warmth from his body seeps through my top as he towers over me, but for some reason I can’t explain, I’m not really scared, even when I know I should be.
Why am I not scared?
Peeking up at him, I take in his icy blue eyes. They aren’t filled with anger. Frustration, sure. But not anger. Determination, maybe? Stubbornness, definitely. But they lack the unhinged, wild look I’ve grown accustomed to, and I hate how I notice the difference. How I compare him with Drake. How, when I told him I was scared, he immediately backed down, ashamed I would even consider the possibility of him touching me—hurting me. And even though I most definitely don’t know him well enough to make this assessment, something pulls at me. I don’t think he would hurt me. Not physically, anyway.
“Let. Me. Help. You,” Everett demands. Despite the fact it isn’t posed as a question, I can tell it is. Hell, it’s a plea—one I desperately want to accept. But at what cost? So far, all he’s done is make my life more difficult, so why do I want to trust him? Why do I want to ask for his help? Am I really this pathetic?
Sucking my lips between my teeth, I murmur, “I don’t want to drag you into this. I don’t want to drag anyone into this. I just want to pretend?—”
The door rattles like thunder, and I jump at the sound.
“Raine!” Thud. Thud. Thud. Drake slams his fists against the door. “Times up!” Thud. Thud. Thud. “Told you I’d come looking! Open up! ”
I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a soft breath but don't move a muscle. “I need to go.”
“Stay here,” Everett whispers.
“You don’t know me.”
“I don’t need to know you to understand whatever’s going on between you and the fuckwad pounding on my door is a bad idea.”
“ This is a bad idea,” I argue.
“Stay. Here.”
I shake my head, ignoring how my blood boils at his stubbornness. “Hide behind the shower curtain. I’ll slip out, and he’ll never know.”
“Not gonna hide in my own house, Raine,” Everett warns.
“Open the goddamn door!” Drake booms.
I flinch at the harshness in his voice and another heavy dose of frustration flashes in Everett’s soft blue eyes. He pushes off from the wall and yanks the door open.
It happens so fast I don’t even have a chance to register what’s going on until Drake comes into view. My jaw drops, and panic blooms in my chest as his attention shifts from surprise to confusion to full-blown rage.
“What the fuck?” Drake shoves Everett, but the guy barely budges.
Lifting his hands in the air, Everett says, “We were just talking.”
In an instant, Drake swings at Everett’s face. Everett dodges it at the last second, then lands a hard punch against Drake’s jaw. His head whirls to the side. It only takes a moment for Drake to recover, and he’s returning a cross-jab combo of his own. Footsteps echo from the main area of the house as the two brawl in the doorway, blocking my escape while giving me a front-row seat to a spectacle I want no part of. With my back pressed against the wall, I cover my mouth, frozen. Fucking frozen. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where to go. I?—
Do something!
“Stop!” I yell. “Both of you! Stop!” I try moving closer but jump back when Everett stumbles a few steps toward me after a particularly brutal hit. He immediately takes the offensive again and barrels toward my boyfriend. “Drake! Nothing happened! I swear, nothing happened! Please?—”
From the open door, Griffin jumps into the chaos, taking an elbow to the jaw before dealing a nasty right hook to Drake while simultaneously placing himself in the center of the fight as Everett winds up for another hit. Two more strangers follow Griffin’s lead and drag Drake away from Everett as Griffin turns around and reaches for my impulsive savior, pushing him back from going for another round with the enemy.
Red faced and chest heaving, Everett glares at my boyfriend. I have no doubt if Everett had his way, Drake would be swallowed by an inferno and burned alive, never to be seen again. To be fair, I’m pretty sure the sentiment is mutual with the way Drake is staring daggers at the guy who had me pinned to a wall not too long ago. The question is, who will drop their little staring contest first?
“Raine!” Drake finally booms. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t bother wiping it away. He also doesn’t bother looking at me as he continues his little staredown with his newly gained nemesis. It’s like I’m a dog. Like I’m an object. His object. It makes me sick. But now isn’t the time to stand up to him, even if this is the final straw. The last reminder I’ll ever need about what an asshole he really is. I knew it already, but…
“Raine,” Drake warns. It’s quieter and even more lethal.
Forcing my legs to move, I walk closer to him but hesitate when I’m within reach .
“Get in the car,” he growls.
I want to get out of here. I want to disappear. I want to rewind the last six months and make so many different decisions. But I can’t. I can’t erase the fact I’m here or how I’m in the middle of a bathroom with more eyes on me than I ever want. Each of them judging. Each of them assuming. Each of them making things so much worse for me.
Drake’s eyebrows pull low as he finally steals his attention from Everett and glares at me, letting the blood from the corner of his mouth paint his sneer. “Now, Raine.”
“Raine,” Everett calls from my periphery.
My body freezes as I meet his gaze for a split second. Then, I slip out of the door.