Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EVERETT
S he looks cute in an apron.
She’s also a terrible cook.
There’s too much salt in the sauce. The noodles are far from al dente, and it took her twenty minutes to grate the cheese. Still. It might be the best lasagna I’ve made since cooking a batch in the kitchen with my dad as I watch Raine slide her fork into her mouth and take a bite. When the cheese hits her tongue, she practically moans.
“You like it?” I ask.
“This is incredible.”
I nod, taking my own bite when her phone vibrates against the table.
It’s been buzzing off and on since we started boiling the water for the noodles. Her muscles tense, and she pushes the mute button, grabbing her glass of wine and bringing it to her lips.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this feels like a date.
Until her phone goes off again.
“Haven’t blocked him yet, huh?” It isn’t an accusation. It’s an observation. One bothering me more than I’d like to admit. Reeves gave her rules for a reason, and I’m not one to waste my time.
“He’s using his friends’ phones,” she counters.
My frustration triggers, and I stand up, reaching for her cell on the round table. Before she can stop me, it’s in my hand as it vibrates with another message. There are at least a dozen of them. Some from the same number. Some from different ones. Her phone isn’t password protected, so I can see everything. Part of me wonders if it’s because he didn’t trust her enough to let her have a lock. The other part doesn’t want to know, in case my theory’s correct. It’ll only make me feel more sorry for her, and I have a feeling it’s the last thing she wants.
As I sit my ass back down, another message pops up and I stare at the screen. It’s a picture. I click on it, and the image expands. It’s a screenshot of the security footage. My hands on her. Raine looking up at me. Her back pressed to my chest. Before I pushed her against the door. Before she labeled Drake as her ex and promised she’d never go back to their apartment. The footage is convincing, even if it’s relatively innocent. The way I stare down at her. The way she stares up at me. All innocent and ripe for the picking. Wide eyes. Lips parted. Fuck. My hand threatens to crush the phone as a text follows.
555.321.4924:
What the fuck is this?!
I’ll tell you what this is, asshole. This is proof that Raine isn’t your girl anymore.
“What’s he saying?” Raine asks, interrupting my inner dialogue.
I glance up at her and force my grip to relax. “He sent a picture of us from your doorbell camera.”
She nods but doesn’t ask to see it when the phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a video message. Against my better judgment, I click on it, and a silhouette of a girl comes into view. It might be dark, but I can tell it’s Raine. She’s naked on a bed. Her head is thrown back, and she’s moaning. The sound shoots straight to my cock until I register what I’m seeing. It’s a sex tape. She’s fucking someone. Scratch that. Someone was fucking her, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who. My gut knots as I shut the phone off but don’t give it back to her. I stare at my lasagna, but it’s like it’s tattooed in my mind. The image of Raine riding his cock.
She must’ve heard it. Recognized the sound of her writhing. Moaning. Begging.
Her phone vibrates against the table, but neither of us reaches for it.
“Did you know he filmed you?” I rasp. Jealousy licks up my spine and fucks with my head.
Her fork clinks against the edge of her plate. She picks up her napkin and crumples it in her hands. “Not when he was doing it.”
“But you know he has the footage,” I push.
“He has three videos. One of me sucking him off. One of us in our bedroom. And one of us in the shower.”
Rage simmers beneath my skin, and I shake my head. “How could you let him?—”
“You don’t know Drake.” She drops the napkin and pushes her half-finished plate further away from her. “And like I said, I didn’t know he was filming, so maybe you should stop looking at me like you’re disgusted to even be in the same room with me.”
Her gaze drops to a knot in the wooden table, and she folds her arms, refusing to look at me. To make eye contact with me. To let me past those impenetrable walls.
But her shame and embarrassment practically waft off her with a vengeance. It’s thick. Potent. Nauseating .
My own appetite vanishes as I stare at the girl across from me. “You’re right,” I concede. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Being a judgmental asshole? Even if I had let him film us together—which I didn’t—it doesn’t justify him sharing it.”
“You’re right,” I repeat. “It doesn’t. Nothing justifies this. And I’m not disgusted with you. I’m disgusted with him. Sharing a piece of yourself with someone you trust, then finding out they misused that trust—especially like this—is fucked up.”
She scoffs. “You can say that again.” Wiping at the corner of her eye while still refusing to look at me, she whispers, “And now, he’s going to share it with even more people.”
“ More ?” I growl.
“The one of me sucking him off?” she offers. “Yeah. He already shared it with his friends. Didn’t even bother holding it over my head before he sent it. Look what my baby girl can do,” she mocks, mimicking his voice. “Like I was something to show off, you know? How I could deep throat his cock like a good girl. And then, when I called him out for acting like a dick, he told me it was a joke, and I should stop overreacting.” Her laugh is laced with resentment as she shakes her head back and forth. “The best part was when I showed up at his next game. You should’ve seen his teammates’ faces. It took less than two seconds for me to realize they’d all seen it. Called me good girl for a solid month afterward like it was an inside joke or something.” She forces a smile. “What a bunch of gentlemen, am I right?”
The phone buzzes against the table again, interrupting her. This time, it’s a call.
I slide my thumb across the screen and bring it to my ear. “Hey, asshole.”
Drake’s voice echoes through the speaker after a short pause. “Let me talk to my girlfriend. ”
“Yeah, she’s not your girlfriend anymore.”
“Give her the phone,” he seethes. “Now.”
“You lost the right to talk to her the moment you hit her.”
“Tell her if she doesn’t come home, I’m gonna?—”
“Careful,” I warn. “If you finish your sentence with a threat, you’ll regret it.”
His laughter booms through the speaker. I pull it away from my ear briefly.
“You think you know her, man. You think you know me. But you have no fucking clue who you’re dealing with. Raine is mine.”
“Raine is Raine,” I tell him calmly. “And if you don’t stop calling her, we’ll call the police.”
“Everett,” Raine whispers.
“Nah, I don’t think you will,” Drake interrupts, oblivious to Raine’s protest. “Your friend group already has enough heat with the police, don’t you think?”
My molars threaten to crack as I register his words. How the fuck does he know what’s going on with our group and the police?
“Stay away from her,” I warn.
“Yeah, I don’t think so. See you around, Taylor.”
The call goes dead, and my attention snaps to Raine. “ Now , you need to call the police.”
She pales and shakes her head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I already told you. I don’t want to blow things out of proportion.”
I slam my hand against the table. “This isn’t blowing things out of proportion, Raine! He has videos of you he recorded without your permission!”
“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know I got mixed up with the wrong guy?”
“Then let me call the police. ”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because then my parents will know!”
“Maybe you could use your parents' support right now,” I growl. “Did you ever think of that?”
She wipes beneath her eye and shakes her head again, refusing to look at me as we go head-to-head. “You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me, Raine.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“You’re staying under my roof! You’re?—”
“Fine!” she snaps, pushing to her feet. “I’ll leave!”
“I’m not asking you to leave,” I spit. “I’m asking you to explain why you don’t want your parents to know. Fuck, I’m begging you to! What’s so wrong with your parents finding out about you dating an asshole like Drake?”
“I already told you?—”
“Because you feel stupid,” I say, recounting her words from before.
“Yes!” she yells. The fight seeps out of her, and she collapses back into her seat. “I feel so fucking stupid, Everett.” Her breath hitches as she stares at her plate like she’s refusing to look at me. Like she can’t stomach it. “My parents are strong. They’re resilient. My mom practically raised herself, and my dad one-hundred percent did. They warned me not to date assholes and to stand up for myself and to be confident and smart. Falling for Drake, dating him, and moving in with him was the opposite in every. Fucking. Way. So you’ll have to excuse me for not wanting to look into my parents’ eyes and only see disappointment, especially when they find out exactly who Drake’s father is, all right?” She wipes at the corner of her eye, letting out a slow breath through pursed lips.
“Who is Drake’s dad?” I ask .
Her lower lip trembles, and I know she let something slip she wasn’t planning to share.
“Raine,” I warn.
“His, uh, his dad is Bradley Ackerman.”
I stay quiet, searching my memory for any association to the name but come up empty. “Am I supposed to know who he is?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know? Maybe not. He, uh, I think he went by Shorty or something? He went to LAU with Mav’s mom. I don’t know all the details, but my parents gave me the highlights as a word of caution, along with my mom’s shitty experience, and why it’s important to know who you’re dating and what red flags to look for. Bradley dated Mia for a while but turned out to be a massive scumbag. Like father, like son, right?” Another pathetic laugh escapes her.
I sit back in my seat, blindsided. Not only with Drake’s connection to Mia but also Raine’s guilt over it. The urge to protect her. To justify her logic. It hits closer to home than I anticipate, and I clench my hands into fists on the table, forcing myself to stay in place instead of pulling her into me and comforting her. “You didn’t know he would turn out like his dad.”
“You’re right. I didn’t. But even if he turned out to be a saint like I hoped, it would still be a betrayal to my family.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, though,” she argues. “If my parents found out we were together, and I not only hid it from them but also completely stabbed Maverick’s mom in the back by defending his offspring, they’d never forgive me.”
“His dad doesn’t make him who he is.”
“It doesn’t matter!” she yells. “Drake’s just like him, and even when I knew what signs to watch for, I ignored them. I thought he was different. I thought I could change him.” Her laugh is practically a whimper. “God, how stupid am I? I thought I could change him? Really?” She wipes beneath her eyes again as if her tears are nothing but a reminder of her weakness, and letting them fall will only solidify my view of her. It’s like the girl’s so used to bottling up her emotions—so used to being afraid of setting off the people around her—she doesn’t know how to let them out. To let someone see the ugly side. The irony isn’t lost on me as I take her in. All rosy cheeks and glassy eyes.
Still. Fucking. Gorgeous.
Even when she’s unraveling at the seams.
“I did every stupid thing in the book,” she whispers. “Every stupid thing I was ever warned not to do. And look where it got me. When I found out Drake’s related to Mia’s ex, I swept it under the rug. Pretended like I didn’t know all the shit his dad put her through.” Her gaze falls to her hands. “Not that it matters. I started noticing the similarities of what I was going through to the stories I heard from my own parents.” She scoffs and wipes beneath her eyes once more, refusing to let me in despite airing her dirty laundry. “But I ignored them. Ignored all of it. And if they find out I was so fucking stupid to ignore his familial ties, let alone how it might hurt my family and what he was doing to me, I’ll never…I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll never live it down. I just…I want it to go away. I want all of it to go away.”
I lean back in my chair, studying her. Her sincerity. Her strength. Her stubbornness. She’s an enigma. One I can’t quite put my finger on. Part of me wants to point out how stupid it is to hide something like this from the only people she should rely on. The other part? I guess I get it. My family is great. They’re nothing but supportive, but even the smallest fuck-ups feel larger than Everest whenever I think about my parents finding out. Yeah, Raine isn’t the only one who holds herself to high standards. And the idea of letting the people I love most down when I don’t reach said standards is a hard pill to swallow. Add in her family’s connection to the guy, no matter how flimsy it is? It’s gotta sting like a bitch. Besides, Aunt Mia and Uncle Henry have already been through enough. No need to poke around in their closet searching for skeletons.
“Okay,” I finally cave. “No police. No parents. Promise.”
She sniffs and gifts me a glimpse of those forest-green eyes from across the table. They’re brighter than before. Or maybe it’s the sheen of tears she’s refusing to let fall highlighting the natural color. Or maybe it’s my fault for finally looking—seeing—how bold and beautiful she really is.
“You’re serious?” she whispers.
I nod.
The same tiny wobble hits her bottom lip, but she sucks it between her teeth, wincing when she’s reminded it’s still tender. “Thank you.”
“Just…” I grab my fork from the table and cut off a giant square of cheese and noodles from my lasagna but stop short of shoving it in my mouth. “Don’t make me regret it. What’s your schedule for tomorrow?”
“Nothing, really. What’s yours?”
“Practice in the morning.”
“So, I’ll…stay here, then?” she offers.
“I don’t trust Drake enough to leave you alone.”
A frown tugs at her pouty lips. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”
I want to laugh at her naivety but push the bite of food into my mouth while considering our options. Something about the phone call with Drake grates on me. His arrogance. His frustration. His determination. There’s no way I can leave her by herself. The cabin has a security system, but even then, we’re miles from civilization. The idea of leaving her up here by herself turns the lasagna in my mouth to ash.
She watches as I chew slowly then wipe the corner of my mouth with a napkin. Placing it on my lap, I ask, “Do you want the girls to come here, or do you want to go to the duplex until I’m finished with practice?”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Fine, I’ll let the girls decide.”
“Everett,” she pleads.
Standing up, I grab my half-touched plate of lasagna and round the table toward her. “I won’t cave on this.”
“I’m not asking?—”
“Yeah, it’s exactly what you’re doing.” I tower over her, making sure she can feel my determination the same way I could feel Drake’s through the fucking phone. “Drake isn’t going anywhere. Not anytime soon. So, if we’re leaving the police out of this like you want, you have to play by my rules. Do you understand?”
She cranes her head back a little further, giving me her full attention. “Yes, I understand.”
“Good. The girls are coming here tomorrow, and you aren’t going anywhere until I get back.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” I grab her dish, toss the uneaten lasagna into the garbage, and set the plates in the sink. Turning on the faucet, I mutter under my breath, “So she can listen,” as I squirt some dish soap onto the plates, getting straight to work.