Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RAINE
I feel like the world is spinning. Like I might literally vomit as the room turns into a tomb. No one moves. No one even seems to be breathing. Instead, they just…stare at me.
“I’m sorry, who’s Bo?” Ophelia finally asks.
Mav glances at his girlfriend, then back to me. “This is Bo. Bo’s my what? Second? Third cousin?”
“Technically, we aren’t related,” I rush out. “My dad was roommates with his uncle a couple decades ago. And I’m, uh, I’m so sorry I didn’t make it to the funeral. Really, I am.” I swallow the acid in my throat. “How are you? How are…things?”
“I thought your name was Raine,” Everett growls from the edge of the room. It’s not like I didn’t notice when he first walked in. The guy’s freaking gorgeous, but I was a little distracted, thanks to the family connection that could screw everything up if he decides to open his mouth to my parents.
Ignoring the panicked butterflies in my lower stomach, I argue, “Raine is my real name.”
“Her family calls her Bo,” Maverick informs him .
“Hold up,” Finley interjects. “One, that’s adorable. And two, why Bo?”
Mav scrubs his hand over his face. “I don’t know? Her mom had a miscarriage before Raine, and since Raine was her rainbow baby…”
“Ah, like after the storm,” Finley realizes. “A rain bow. Okay, that’s so cute!”
“My mom says the pregnancy was super rough,” I add. “She puked the entire time. Had to have an I.V. to keep liquids down. It was a whole…thing. So, my dad started calling me Rainbow when I was in the womb to help remind her things would get better. Then Rainbow turned to Bo without the w , and it kind of stuck, even though my first name is Raine.” I turn to Everett, praying he can see my sincerity.
If he does, he doesn’t show it. Nope. This man’s emotions are officially on lockdown.
“Did you know Maverick’s my roommate?” he demands.
I shake my head. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Why?” Maverick crosses his arms over his bare chest. There's a scar on it close to six inches long, reaching from his collarbone to the bottom of his sternum, thanks to his heart transplant, or at least it’s what I heard down the pipeline. And the funeral I apologized for missing? It was his twin brother’s. Archer. The two were always inseparable, and the fact Maverick has Archer’s heart? It’s…well, I guess it shows how twisted fate can be sometimes.
And so is the fact that I’m here. In his kitchen. When I’d rather be anywhere else. Especially if there’s any possibility of him relaying my experience with Drake to anyone who might pass the information along to my family.
Dipping my chin, I stare at the table in front of me, then start to stand. “I should go.”
“Stay,” Reeves orders .
I plop back down in my seat and chew on the edge of my thumb. This is bad. Really bad, actually. How do I get out of here?
“How’d you sleep?” Reeves asks me.
I drop my hand back to my lap and force myself to stop fidgeting. “I, uh, good, I guess.”
Reeves eyes gleam, and he smacks Maverick’s shoulder. “And how’d you sleep? I almost forgot last night was your first one home since the surgery.”
“I slept good,” Mav answers.
“ We slept good,” Ophelia clarifies with a smirk. It pulls a low laugh from Maverick as he leans in for another kiss.
I can’t help the jealousy flaring in my chest. He’s so sweet with her. His hand on the back of her neck as he rubs slow circles. The way she smiles up at him like he hung the moon.
It’s love. Pure. Unrestrained. Love.
And I’m so happy for him. He deserves it more than anyone.
However, it also makes me feel like I’m most definitely intruding, so I stare at my hands instead, fighting their trembling.
“Mav,” Reeves orders.
Maverick turns to him and quirks his brow.
“Mind giving us a minute with your cousin?”
“Not related,” I remind him.
Ignoring me, Mav nods to his friend and pulls Ophelia with him.
“Wait,” I call.
Brows knitting, Maverick stares down at me.
“Can you…not say anything?” I plead.
“Who am I gonna tell, Raine?” He links his fingers with Ophelia’s and gives her a smile. “Come on. Let’s go shower.”
“Ew.” Finley’s nose scrunches. “And on that note, I’m gonna be super subtle and change the subject. Everett? Brother?” She searches the kitchen, and I do the same as Mav and Ophelia leave. He’s leaning against the kitchen sink with his arms folded and his gaze solely focused on me.
“Our girl’s asshole of an ex has been spamming her phone all night and this morning,” Finley explains. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“Am I supposed to do something about it?” he challenges. His gaze stays locked with mine for the barest of seconds, then he looks at Reeves.
“Depends,” Reeves answers. “Has Raine officially hired you yet?”
All eyes turn to me, and I tuck my hands beneath my thighs to keep from squirming. “We, uh, we haven’t talked about it.”
“Well, do you want to?” Finley prods.
Do I want to hire him? No. Do I want my entire relationship with Drake to be wiped from existence? Yes. One hundred percent yes. Do I want to be left alone and have a clean slate? Again, yes. Do I want everyone to stop staring at me and sticking their noses where they don't belong? Also, yes. But getting what I want feels pretty close to impossible lately, so I’m not sure what Finley—or anyone else, for that matter—expects me to say right now.
“I’m not entirely sure what I’d be hiring him to do,” I admit.
Stealing Dylan’s cereal, Reeves picks it up and shoves the spoon into his mouth, oblivious to the eyes pinning him in place like they did to me. He chews slowly as he sets the spoon back into the bowl.
“Ollie.” Dylan drops her head back and looks up at Reeves standing behind her.
Is his first name Ollie? Huh. Who’d of thunk it.
“I think this is the part where you give Everett and Raine a rundown of the process since you’re the only one with experience on this front,” she explains.
Reeves swallows the last bite of Reese's Puffs and clears his throat. “All right. Honestly, it’s pretty straight forward. First, Raine needs to solemnly swear she is up to no good.” He smirks at me. “Get it? Harry Potter?”
“I’m aware of the Marauder's Map,” I volley back at him.
“See? I knew I liked you.” He turns to Dylan. “I knew I liked her.”
“Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re a whore for Harry Potter. Now get to the point,” she orders.
With a wink, Reeves gives me his full attention. “My point is, you need to commit to yourself and to everyone here that you’ll never go back to your ex, or else this will wind up being a waste of everyone’s time.”
Part of me wants to be offended by his bluntness, but I can’t. He’s right. If I go back to Drake, last night and everything I do moving forward will be a waste of time. Everyone’s time. And if they’re willing to help me, I need to be all-in, too. Not that I wasn’t before, but…
Running my tongue along my upper teeth, I admit, “I tried to break it off with Drake before he hit me, which only confirmed my decision to get away from him in the first place. Ever since then, I’ve been trying to figure out how to leave him without poking the bear or having him track me down, but it’s been…difficult, I guess.”
“We can help take care of that part,” Reeves promises. “There are mainly three steps. First, you need to set yourself up to be done with him. No run-ins. No pop-ups. Nothing. Everett said you live with him?”
I nod.
“All right. First order of business.” He rubs his hands together. “Collect your shit or say goodbye to whatever’s at his place. ”
“Everything I own is in our apartment,” I argue.
“Then it looks like you need to go get it.”
My pulse gallops, and I let out a slow shuddered breath, feeling paralyzed at the prospect alone. I know it’s necessary. I also know it’s dangerous.
Pushing himself away from the center island, Everett grunts, “I’ll go with you to grab your things.”
My neck snaps toward him. “You don’t have to?—”
“Yeah, he does,” Reeves interrupts. “After last night’s shit show, you can kiss your alone time goodbye for the foreseeable future.”
My shoulders hunch, but I don’t argue. Honestly, I don’t even want to. What does it say about me? What does it say about my relationship? If my parents knew…
“You need to block his number and vary your routine for the next little while, too,” Reeves continues.
My brows tug. “Vary my routine?”
“We don’t want to give him any opportunities to track you down. Not unless it’s on our terms. Which reminds me, can I see your phone?” He offers his hand palm up, and I set my cell in it.
“What are you doing?” Everett demands.
“Checking for any hidden tracking apps,” Reeves explains as his fingers fly across the screen. A few moments later, his mouth turns down at the corners. “Huh. Surprising.”
“What is?” I ask.
He hands me my phone, and I take it. “None of the usual tracking apps are on it.”
“What kind of tracking apps?”
“The ones stalking assholes like to download onto their victim’s phones without their girlfriend’s knowledge.” He shrugs and steals another Reese’s Puffs from Dylan’s bowl, tossing it into his mouth. “The only ones on your cell are Find My Friends and Life360, which you already disabled from sharing your location with him. Good girl.”
“Watch it,” Everett grumbles.
Reeves smirks. “Which brings me to step two. You need to prove you aren’t isolated or alone and have someone on your side. Someone who has your back. Usually, with abusive motherfuckers like your boy, they try to isolate you, proving you don’t have anyone but them. It’s a way to lure you back because no one likes being lonely. I’d say family’s a good avenue to try, and it is, but if your boy’s known you for a while, he likely knows your family, too, which means he knows your relationships or lack thereof, depending on the client.”
“What’s your point?” I ask.
“My point is, you need to go out and party and show Drake you are most definitely not alone, and you aren’t lonely.”
“You mean fake date Everett,” I clarify.
Reeves’ mouth lifts. “Exactly.”
“What if it pisses Drake off?”
“It should piss him off. You're his favorite toy, and not only were you taken away from him, you were also given to someone else to play with.”
“Ollie,” Dylan scolds.
Reeves lifts his hands in defense. “Just sayin’ it like it is, Pickles.”
“How long?” Everett murmurs. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed or resigned. If he wants this to happen, or if he wants me to leave him alone and never contact him again.
Scratching his jaw, Reeves answers, “Depends on the ex. I’ve helped girls for a few weeks. Others for a few months. The more you’re seen together, the shorter the timeline. Usually, anyway.”
“And with what little you know of Drake?” I ask .
“The fact he came here, attempting to prove you’re his, only for it to blow up in his face means he’s cocky. Arrogant. Even more so than the usual dickhead. If I had to guess, I’d say Drake will be a tough nut to crack.”
“And what if he doesn’t?” I question. “Crack?”
“Then we get the police involved.”
“That isn’t an option,” I murmur.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want my family to know I was dating Drake, and if I go to the police, it’ll blow things out of proportion, and they’ll find out, and…” I tuck my trembling hands beneath my thighs again, unsure what else to say.
“He beat the shit out of you,” Everett growls. “I don’t think calling the police is blowing anything out of proportion.”
“I don’t want to involve them,” I repeat. “Please.”
“What are you hiding?” Everett demands.
“Everett,” Reeves warns. “Let it go.”
Everett tosses his hands into the air. “This is bullshit!”
“Let. It. Go,” Reeves pushes, setting down his empty bowl of cereal. “Besides, until things blow over with Dylan’s investigation, it’s probably best we all lay low, too.”
I frown and turn to Dylan as Finley explains, “Reeves’ dad is a dirty cop who planted cocaine in the back of his car, thinking it would ruin his NHL career, but Dylan decided to say it was hers, so it blew up in his face, and now there’s an ongoing investigation.”
“It’s a whole…”—Dylan grimaces—“ thing .”
“A thing ,” I repeat. “Got it.”
Reeves smirks back at me and squeezes Dylan’s shoulders. “At least you know you’re in good company, right?”
I’d smile back at him if I didn’t feel the anger emanating from the guy across the room. A vein throbs in Everett’s forehead as he stares at me, but he keeps his lips pressed into a thin line when I finally meet his gaze. I know he wants to ask. I know he wants to push. I know he wants to make demands. To pry. To force the truth from my frozen vocal chords, even if it’s the last thing he does.
But he doesn’t. He simply…stares at me. Making me want to squirm. Making me want to spill all my secrets, no matter how pathetic they are.
“For now, we need to figure out where you’ll be staying,” Dylan points out.
She’s right. If I can’t go back to my place, where can I go?
Nibbling on the edge of my thumb, careful not to snag my bottom lip, I lift a shoulder, unsure what to say. “Like I said, I don’t, uh, I don’t want my parents to know I’ve been sharing my life with an abusive asshole.”
“You can stay with us,” Finley offers.
“Where?” Griffin challenges. His attention darts to me. “No offense.”
With a laugh, I reply, “None taken.”
“Seriously, though,” Dylan starts. “My brother’s right. I’m staying with Reeves. Mav and Lia are in his room. Griff is already sharing with Everett, and Finley isn’t exactly a picnic to sleep next to.”
“Hey!” She smacks her best friend on the shoulder. “Rude.”
“I’m just sayin’ you’re a sleep talker,” Dylan argues. “A really noisy one who likes to kick and steal the covers.”
“Gee, thanks.” Finley rolls her eyes but quickly sobers. “There’s always Archer’s room…”
The words are hushed. Tense. And laced with regret as soon as they’re spoken, causing a haze of discomfort to fall on the room. And I hate that I put it there. Maybe not literally. I didn’t suggest Archer’s room as a potential refuge, but the only reason it was offered is because I have a shitty ex and no place to stay .
“I’ll figure something out,” I announce. “If I could maybe use the couch for a night or something, that’d be great. But even then?—”
“I know where she can stay,” Everett interrupts.
My head swivels toward him as Finley asks, “Where?”
“Yeah, where?” Dylan chimes in.
“The cabin.”
Like the Fourth of July, Finley’s eyes light up, and she claps her hands. “Yes! Why didn’t I think of the cabin? It’s perfect, and Mom and Dad left last week. Ohmygod, Raine, you’re going to love it. It’s secluded and gorgeous, and—wait. Your car has four-wheel drive, right?”
I grimace. “If I say no, does it ruin everything?”
Finley’s head bobs. “One hundred percent, it does, yes.”
“I’ll drive you everywhere,” Everett grunts from the sink. “Drake will recognize her car, anyway. It’s best if she doesn’t have it.”
Silence follows.
And it isn’t only me.
It’s Reeves and Dylan and Finley. It’s Griffin and the way he’s looking at Everett. Like he grew a second head or something.
“You don’t have to drive me anywhere,” I murmur.
“Actually, he kind of does,” Reeves interjects, interrupting our little staredown. “Buckle up, Raine, ‘cause I’m gonna be honest with you. Whether or not you accept Everett’s help, your world’s about to be turned upside down for a while. I’ve done this a time or two, and considering the way Drake responded last night when you were trying to placate him before winding up at Everett’s place instead of your apartment, I doubt he’ll let you go easily. You’re gonna want Everett around. In fact,” he slaps Everett’s shoulder, “consider him your shadow for the foreseeable future.”
My shadow ?
My eyes dart to Everett, and I push my hair away from my face, trying to keep my world from spinning out of control.
“What about my job or Everett’s schooling or how much this is going to cost or?—”
“Not gonna charge you for this,” Everett grunts.
Reeves nods. “Yeah, we’re not complete assholes. You need help. He’s here to give it.”
“You still didn’t answer my question about schedules,” I remind Reeves.
“We’ll figure it out,” Everett argues.
“How?”
“You can use my space in the garage to park your car since we won’t be staying here.”
“I haven’t officially agreed yet,” I say.
“What’s there to agree to?” Everett’s nostrils flare, and he pushes himself away from the counter. “Stop being so damn stubborn.”
“Stop being so damn bossy, then,” I snap before I press my lips together and dare to look up at him again for what somehow feels like the first and thousandth time all at once. New, but familiar, and with an intensity I’m already growing accustomed to. Pretty sure it’s the one constant I’ve experienced over the last twenty-four hours. Everett’s intensity. His chiseled jaw is locked. His arms are folded, making his muscles bulge. And his expression? It’s unreadable.
“Aaaand, we’re gonna go,” Finley announces. Chair legs scrape against the hardwood floor as everyone stands, disappearing from the kitchen like a perfectly orchestrated magic act.
But the silence? It grows stronger and stronger with every passing second. I want to know what he’s thinking. If he feels like I’ve been thrown into his lap without any say in the matter. If he feels like this entire situation is a waste of his time and he’d rather be anywhere else. If he feels like this is too much effort. Like I’m too much effort.
And maybe it’s my own insecurities screaming at me, but I don’t like it. The silence. The restraint in his gaze. The way he’s looking at me so objectively. Like he’s…detached. And why wouldn’t he be? I came to Reeves for help. Not Everett. And sure, he’s the one I called last night after Drake kicked me out of his car, but all he agreed to was one night. One night of help. Moving forward with Reeves’ three step plan, let alone staying at his family’s cabin for the foreseeable future? It’s…a lot. It would be a lot for anyone, but for someone who’s so unreadable and stoic, it’s clearly more than he signed up for.
“Do you want me to go?” I finally ask, unable to take another second of silence.
“Stay.”
I wipe my sweaty palms against my thighs until I remember all I’m wearing are his boxers and T-shirt. It makes me feel vulnerable. Seen.
“If I’m going to stay, I need you to stop looking at me like this.”
“Like what?” he challenges.
“Like I’m a project or a…problem.”
His footsteps are slow as he walks toward me, grabs the chair beside mine, and sits down. “I think we should have some rules.”
I don’t miss the way he doesn’t acknowledge my assessment, but I give in anyway, letting him steer the conversation where he wants as long as it doesn’t involve Mav or any of his family— my family.
Carefully, I ask, “What kind of rules?”
“For starters, you can’t flinch anytime I try to touch you.”
“I don’t?—”
He reaches for my face, and I shy away, causing his mouth to twitch. “You do.” Gently, he reaches for me again, and I force my body to stay still as he tucks a few strands of my hair behind my ear. Satisfied, he keeps his hand in place and nods. “Don’t get me wrong. I get it. But if we’re gonna convince your ex this is real, it needs to look real.”
I nod.
“I’m gonna have to touch you,” he repeats.
I nod again.
“And you’re going to have to look like you like it.” His icy blue eyes darken. “Like you want me to touch you.”
I force my head to bob once more and gulp.
“I also need you to understand this isn’t real.”
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I answer, “Not a problem.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “Trust me, after everything I’ve been through, I’m swearing off men altogether, but yes. I think I can handle a few fake touches.”
“So if I do this…” He moves even closer until the smell of his musky sweat tickles my nostrils. He should stink. Every guy stinks after he works out. But Everett? I don’t know what it is, and I don’t know how I feel about it, but a not-so-small part of me wants to lean closer. To breathe him in.
Those icy blues shoot straight to my lower stomach as he dips his head, keeping his eyes on mine.
Is he going to kiss me? He wouldn’t. There aren’t any witnesses, and he just said this isn’t real, but if that’s the case?—
His bottom lip grazes my top one, being careful not to brush against my still-healing split bottom lip. Heat floods to where he touches me, making my face feel hot and leaving me lightheaded as I force myself to stay still. To not pull away. Not because it’s unpleasant, but because…because I’m curious. If this is how he kisses all his conquests, even his re al ones. Soft. Controlled. Calculated. Pleasant, even. Hell, if I wasn’t so jaded, I might even be interested in a guy like him. He’s kind of surly, sure. But there’s something about him. The way he watches me. All too aware of my every move. Every breath. Every?—
He pulls away and drops his hand from my chin. “So you will let me touch you,” he decides. “Good. Maybe we’ll be able to pull this off after all.”
A small part of me wants to call him an ass for kissing me under the guise of a test when there aren’t any witnesses, but I bite my tongue.
Not. Real.
Right.
“What do I owe you?” I ask.
He scoffs. “Not making you pay for this.”
“I want to.”
“Not gonna happen,” he repeats.
“What’s in it for you?” I flinch back, surprised by my annoyance, until I realize I need an answer if I want this to work. “I only mean…if you won’t let me pay you, what do you get out of this?”
“Who says I need to get anything out of it?”
“I don’t know? Every guy on the planet?”
“Maybe I’m not like those guys.”
He isn’t. It took two minutes of being in his presence to figure out he’s nothing like Drake or half the guys I’ve met in my life, most of them being Drake’s friends, but I digress.
“Let’s say we do it,” I murmur. “Even if our entire relationship is fake, if we’re going to make it look real, you can’t be seen with other girls. Drake will see right through it.”
“No girls. Got it.”
“I’m serious. It was the one line Drake knew not to cross.”
Everett scoffs. “Hitting you is one thing, but touching another girl is off limits? ”
“Apparently,” I reply dryly.
His mouth twitches, and he scratches his jaw. “Fine. No girls.”
No girls. He says it so nonchalantly. Like I’m asking him to pick up some milk on his way home or something, when we both know asking a hockey star to be celibate for the foreseeable future isn’t exactly an easy task, considering the puck bunnies who I have no doubt follow him around like little puppies during the season. Yet here he is, accepting it.
“It’s not a problem for you?” I push. “Putting your life on hold to help me?”
His eyes darken a shade, making them appear more navy than sky blue as he studies me while keeping his thoughts to himself. Is he already second-guessing this ridiculous plan the same way I am? And that’s coming from the girl who actually gets something out of this. Everett? He gets nothing. Nothing but a month or two of abstinence and likely a couple of right hooks as a consolation prize.
Yeah, this is a great idea.
“Why don’t you want to tell your parents?” he finally asks.
I’d laugh at the ludicrousness of his question if I hadn’t considered it a thousand times. It’s so simple yet complicated that most days, the possibility of my family finding out makes me want to cry and curl up in a ball of shame when, if I just told them, it would eradicate most of my problems. It would also potentially create even more.
“Answer me,” Everett pushes. “I won’t do this unless you tell me the truth.”
“You really want the truth?” I bite the edge of my black lacquered thumbnail and avoid his gaze. “It’s because I feel stupid.”
“Stupid?” He frowns and gives me a look making me feel like I’ve grown a second head or something.
“My parents taught me better than to spend time with someone like Drake. Someone who’s manipulative and controlling and possessive. The idea of giving my parents front-row seats to something like that makes me feel…stupid,” I repeat. “And with how low my confidence already is considering the circumstances, I think keeping them in the dark is probably the one good decision I’ve made since I started dating Drake. Oh,” I snap my fingers, “and let’s not forget I’ve been treated with kid gloves ever since the moment I was conceived, remember?”
“What does that have to do with you keeping your family in the dark?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I laugh. “After my mom’s miscarriage and years of infertility until she finally wound up pregnant with me, I was basically deemed a miracle before I even had a heartbeat. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to be alive and love my family more than you’ll ever understand. But do you know how messed up it feels to simultaneously be put on a pedestal for existing and also treated like a frail princess in need of protection from…everything? And it's not only coming from my parents, either. If my older brother—who thinks he’s untouchable, by the way—found out about what Drake’s been doing to me, he would literally kill him, Everett. And no, I’m not just saying it. That is if my dad didn’t pull the trigger first.”
“Raine—”
“Do you really think I want my dad or my brother to wind up in jail all because I screwed up by falling in love with the wrong guy?” I scoff. “I can’t let that happen. I can’t.”
“We won’t let it happen,” Everett interjects.
I fold my arms and lean back in my chair. “You’re right. We won’t. Because we all agreed I’m not going to the cops.”
He’s annoyed. I can see it. Feel it. The tension in his jaw. The vein in his forehead. If he’s expecting me to cave, he’s going to be sorely disappointed .
I hold his stare and ignore the swell of butterflies in my stomach.
“Not. Going. To. Happen,” I push.
His eyes thin even more, and a grumbled sigh escapes him. “The cabin’s up in the mountains. All it takes is one storm without four-wheel drive, and you're stuck for a week. That’s why I’m gonna drive you everywhere until this shit is taken care of, especially since Drake knows your car, too. When you get a second, send me your schedule. I’ll work it around my classes, practice, and games. We can figure it out as we go.”
“Ev…”
“Do you go to school?”
I shake my head. “Just work at Eternal.”
With a slow nod, he steps back, giving me room to breathe. “Do you feel safe at Eternal?”
My brows pull as I consider his question. “Why?”
“Because I can’t hang around during your shifts. I have practice and school and?—”
“I don’t think Drake will do anything while I’m in the shop,” I tell him. “He’d wait to get me alone.”
“So as long as you wait inside after shifts, you should be good?”
“I think so, yes.”
His chin dips again. “Let me pack my shit, then we’ll grab your things.”
My eyes pop. “I’m sorry…two things. One,”—I lift my forefinger into the air—“why do you need to pack? And two”—I add my middle finger—“You want to pick up my things right now?”
“One”—he mirrors me, lifting a finger into the air—“the cabin’s a thirty-minute drive from town, and Reeves said you shouldn’t be alone until we know Drake’s finished being an asshole, so yeah. I’m moving in with you. And two,”—he lifts another finger, going toe to toe with me in the middle of his kitchen—“yes. We’re gonna pick up your shit right now. Let’s go.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” I hedge.
He tucks his hands into his pockets, rocks back on his heels, and turns toward the hallway. “And I don’t give a shit. Come on.”