Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
RAINE
H e’s here. I shouldn’t be surprised, and I guess I'm not, but knowing the possibility versus seeing it firsthand are two very different things.
“ Spin the Bottle , huh?” Drake says. “Mind if we join?”
Three girls are with him, along with two of his guy friends, Johnny St. James and Mikey Knolls. Great. They already have bad blood with this house, so why not make it worse, right?
Blood whooshes in my ears, and my mouth feels like it’s full of cotton as I watch him stride closer. Part of me wants to tell him to leave. Part of me wants to get off my ass and run in the opposite direction. But this is the point, isn’t it? To prove I’m not scared anymore. I’m not…anything anymore. We aren’t anything anymore.
“Pretty sure you could have your own circle,” Griffin says to Drake before calling for another of his teammates. “Hey, Dreggs, get this guy a bottle?—”
“Nah. Nothin’ wrong with a little variety, right?” Drake sits across from me without waiting for an invitation while gifting me with a pointed gaze I swear I can feel deep in my chest. But it doesn’t leave butterflies. It leaves a sharp burn I want to wipe away, though I’m not stupid enough to believe it would do anything.
As if he can see his affect on me, he smiles. “I think we can all play this game, don’t you?”
I feel Griffin’s questioning eyes on me, and I have no doubt they mirror Everett’s on my opposite side. I don’t know what they expect me to say. I don’t know how this goes. I have no freaking idea. Like a rubber band stretched too thin, I force my focus to snap from Drake to Everett.
My eyes plead with his as I wait. For what, I’m not sure. Maybe for him to take the reins? To make a decision? To tell me what to do now with my abusive ex sitting eight feet in front of me?
Why hasn’t he lashed out yet? Drake, not Ev. He saw me kiss someone who isn’t him, and he didn’t lose his shit. Why? What’s going on? And why do I feel like it only pushed us another step in the wrong direction?
A warm hand hits my thigh. I look down, finding Everett’s large, calloused hand on me. His thumb slips beneath the ripped material of my jeans and he runs it back and forth against my bare skin. Back and forth. Back and forth. Slowly. Methodically. As if it has a direct connection to my sanity, I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to calm the hell down.
Satisfied, Everett shifts slightly and bends one of his knees up, resting his forearm against it while keeping his opposite hand on my leg.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
He looks good. I’ll give him that much. Like he’s in his element. Like he’s looking into the face of a lion, and all he sees is a baby kitten he could squash with his bare hands if he wanted to. Everett Taylor. Kitten squasher. It’d be gross if Drake wasn’t the kitten in this scenario .
“Rules are simple,” Everett explains. “When the bottle lands on someone, both parties have to agree to the kiss and the location. If one or more participants don’t want the kiss, you both take a shot, then it’s the next person’s turn. If there are any issues, you’re kicked out of the party. Any questions?”
Drake shakes his head. “None at all, man. I’ll go first.”
With a flick of his wrist, Drake sends the bottle whirling on the ground. It finally stops on one of the girls he came with. Taliah, I think? Gorgeous brown hair. Olive skin. Sweet smile. I remember her from some of Drake’s games. She’s one of the girls Drake told me not to worry about. To be honest, I never really did. Why would I? Drake knew I’d leave if he cheated. It was one of the only lines I drew in the sand, and it’s one of the rules I think he actually respected. Now, here he is, trying to shove my nose in…whatever this is.
When Taliah realizes she’s been picked, she turns to Drake and lifts her head to pay up. He swoops down, shoving his tongue into her mouth like an overzealous porn star. It’s over the top and kind of gross, but I’m well aware this show isn’t for anyone but me. Too bad Drake missed the mark.
Without even blinking, I watch—hell, I stare—at the makeout session in front of me, being sure Drake knows exactly how little this affects me. How little he means to me, and how far he dropped off my radar as soon as his fist connected with my face.
Or at least it’s what I try to show.
The voice is still there, though. It’s quieter than ever, but I can still hear it. Telling me I’m making things worse. That I screwed up. That this is my fault. Because even though Drake was an ass. Even though he hurt me. He was still my everything at one point, and here he is, rubbing my nose in the fact I’m the one who chose to leave.
After all we’ve been through. All we weathered together. I’m the one who walked away. And I don’t regret it. I can’t. But it doesn’t take the sting away from having a front-row seat to Drake kissing someone who isn’t me when he swore I’d be the last girl to touch his lips. That we’d make it through anything. Through everything. Together.
As his lips move over hers, I realize how difficult it is to come to terms with the fact that the man I loved never really existed and the man in front of me wants to cut me deep. Whether it's physically or emotionally, his goal is still the same. To hurt me. And if he can’t do it with his hands, he’ll do it with his actions.
I deserve more, though, don’t I?
Then again, aren’t I doing the same thing?
I’m with Everett to prove I moved on. To prove I don’t want anything to do with Drake anymore. To prove I’m nothing but a girl from his past, the same way he’s nothing but a guy from mine. And I do want it. To leave Drake in the past. So, why isn’t he letting me go?
The warm hand on my knee squeezes, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. Looking down, I take in the scarred knuckles. The light dusting of hair on his wrist disappearing underneath his shirt. The veins beneath his skin. The strength in his hands. How big they are. How easily they could hurt me. How easily he could hurt me.
I peek at Everett, surprised by the understanding in his cool blue eyes. As if he knows exactly what’s going through my mind, and he doesn’t think I’m crazy or insane or…wrong. It’s so different from the look he gave me when we first met. When it was as clear as day how he labeled me as weak and stupid for dating someone like Drake in the first place, let alone running back to him after he hurt me. It’s like he finally gets it. Maybe not all of it, and definitely not the little details that will haunt me for the rest of my life. But part of it. The big part. The part saying it’s okay. I’m okay .
“All right, you two,” Griffin jokes. “Either find a room or let someone else play.”
Ripping his mouth from Taliah’s, Drake turns to me and smirks. “My bad. Seems it's been a while since I kissed someone who actually knew what they were doing.”
Asshole.
“Pretty sure we’ve been kissing different girls, then,” Everett counters dryly. “Because Raine has the sweetest lips I’ve ever tasted.”
“Well, since you’re used to my sloppy seconds, why don’t you give Taliah a go,” Drake offers. “You can compare the two.” He smirks at me again. “I know I have.”
My lungs deflate, my abdomen plummets, and my cheeks flush. Coming from a stranger, it would be a ruthless comment. Coming from a guy I actually trusted and opened up to? It hits on a whole other level.
“Nah. Don’t get me wrong. You’re beautiful, Taliah,” Everett points out as his thumb continues dragging along the slit in my jeans. Slowly. Methodically. “But I’ll have to pass. Over the years, I’ve learned not to fuck up the good things in my life, and I think we can all agree Raine’s pretty close to perfect.”
“Sure, she is.” Drake’s eyes darken, and I have no doubt he’s close to tumbling over the edge. To losing his shit in front of everyone. “Yeah, she’s the real deal until she grabs her shit when she knows you’re out of the house, then moves in with a prick and acts like a slut.”
“Careful,” Everett warns. His tone is sharp. Lethal. Until whatever minuscule speck of hospitality that had been present since Drake arrived shrivels up like an old raisin as Everett stares at my ex across from us. “You can say whatever you want about me, but you might want to remember where you are. ”
With a scoff, Drake looks around the crowded room. “And where am I?”
“You’re in LAU territory. And yeah, you brought a few buddies as backup, but they can’t help you here. Not if you run your mouth about my girl.”
My pulse lurches as I register his words, no matter how fake they are. I’m not his girl. I’m not his anything.
Drake’s friends shift forward, their muscles tense, bodies rigid. Like they can feel the same shift I can. The power dynamic. The commanding aura they’re used to their friend sporting is being stripped right in front of them, only to be wielded by the one and only Everett Taylor.
“Is that a threat?” Drake challenges. I can’t tell if he’s surprised or intrigued, or freaking pissed, though none of the options make me feel better.
Scratching his jaw with his opposite hand since his other one is most definitely still branding me, Everett replies, “That’s exactly what this is.”
“Yeah, I heard it, too,” Griffin chimes in beside him. He turns to the circle next to us and calls, “Mav, did you hear a threat?”
Mav glances over his shoulder at us and grins, proving he’s been a hell of a lot more invested in what’s going on in our circle than he let on. “It’s exactly what I heard. How ‘bout you, Reeves?”
Reeves appears out of nowhere and nods. “Yeah, Ev isn’t usually known for subtlety, but if you need any of us to spell it out for you, let us know.” His muscles bulge as he folds his arms and leans against the wall. “We’ll be happy to oblige.”
Slowly, Drake shifts his gaze from one LAU player to the next, realizing how surrounded he and his friends really are. When his attention lands on me, the acid in my stomach curdles. He rests his elbow on his bent knee the same way Everett had earlier, though I doubt he even notices the similarity. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s all too aware of his surroundings and attempting to use them for his own gain. And what does he want? Well, I think we both know who the weak link is here and right now? He’s daring me to crumble. To try to smooth things over and let him fly under the radar the same way he has for months.
Swallowing back my trepidation, I murmur, “I think it’s time for you to leave, Drake.”
If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his eyes thin. “Careful, Raine.”
It’s a warning. One I once would’ve listened to. When I had to go home with him. When I had to deal with him. When I had to put up with his tantrums and his yelling sprees and his asshole comments and his hands. Whether they were punching a wall or grabbing me, or in the end, hitting me from out of nowhere, his hands were something I definitely had to put up with. I never realized how much I feared them. How rough he could be, even with little things. Like when he would touch me. Both in and out of the bedroom.
It’s such a stark contrast to Everett’s touch. Even now, with his thumb against my bare skin and the rest of his palm pressed against my upper thigh, there’s a weight to it. A strength. But without the underlying possession I grew used to. Like he isn’t touching me for him. He’s touching me for me. And it’s strange. Recognizing the difference in real time and with so many people witnessing it. And it doesn’t matter if it isn’t real. If this thing between Everett and me is all based on a lie. His touch? It is real. In this moment, I can feel it. The strength he’s giving me. The unspoken reminder I’m not alone, but I am capable.
I. Am. Capable .
“I think I’ve walked on eggshells long enough, thanks.” I grab Everett’s hand and lace our fingers together, placing our entwined hands in my lap. “And in case it isn’t clear, we’re through. Forever . And there isn’t anything in this world that will change my mind.”
It’s quiet now. The room. The entire house. Like everyone forgot about the game we’re supposed to be playing. They’re too invested in the drama unfolding right in front of them.
I have no idea if this is how it usually goes when Reeves helps girls. If they all feel the way I feel. Ashamed. Confused. Close to crumbling. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the problem. The one with the messed up perception of everything including the man beside me and his words from seconds ago.
My girl.
Am I his girl? Obviously not, but after our kiss, I can’t help but wonder if…maybe it could be real. This thing. Or maybe I’m just growing addicted to what comfort feels like since it’s been so long since I felt it.
And maybe now isn’t the time to let my thoughts spiral into what-ifs and what could be. Maybe now is the time to watch Drake walk away for the last time.
Please walk away.
Drake’s movements are slow—calculated—as he pushes to his feet. His friends follow, but I don’t miss the same rigidness in their muscles. It’s like they’re poised and ready to fight if their leader gives them an inkling to pounce.
Please don’t turn this into a fight.
Please don’t turn this into a fight.
Tension swirls in the air, leaving me breathless as I glance at Everett. I can tell he wants to jump to his feet. Can see how much he doesn’t like being at a disadvantage, and Drake moving toward us while we sit our asses on the ground definitely puts us at a disadvantage. But even though Everett doesn’t move, I don’t miss the way Reeves watches Drake from right outside the circle. Waiting. Ready. I have no doubt he’s the reason Everett’s staying put, even if I can feel his restraint radiating off him.
Yeah. Everett wants to hit Drake as much as I know Drake wants to punch him, which is the last thing I need. I know Reeves mentioned this could be part of the process, but now that it’s potentially here, I don’t want it. I don’t want any of this. I’m here with Everett. Everyone just stood up for me. It has to count for something, doesn’t it? It has to be enough.
I squeeze Everett’s hand gently, silently begging him to let it go. To let Drake go. He doesn’t look at me, only continues staring at Drake, but I don’t miss the lock of his jaw. The way his muscles are taut and hard. For a fight. For a full-on brawl.
Please , I silently beg.
Teeth grinding, Drake moves toward me through the circle. When his boot hits the edge of the bottle, it rolls to the side. Griffin grabs the long neck, testing its weight while staring up at Drake. Just as on edge. Just as ready.
I lift my head, waiting, refusing to cower as Drake stands over me.
“You’re done, Raine?” he asks.
I nod.
“We’ll see.” Then he turns and leaves, taking his friends and what’s left of my oxygen with him until they disappear through the front door. My shoulders slump forward.
Ho-ly. Shit.
The party is silent. It’s like in the movies when you swear you’re in a vacuum, and everyone’s looking at you. Watching you. Studying you. Like you belong in a zoo or beneath a microscope. It's not long until a loud clap reverberates through the air .
Reeves slaps his hands together, demanding everyone’s attention. He cups his hands over his mouth and booms, “All right, I’m over this game. Let’s meet in the family room for musical chairs!”
Chaos follows as everyone but me stands. Some head to the family room as instructed, while others head to the basement, carrying up folding chairs and placing them along the edge of the family room. Like a well-oiled machine, everyone moves around the space, preparing for the game change as I watch from the side of the room in awe when a hand appears in front of me.
I look up, taking Everett’s offered hand.
As he pulls me to my feet, he asks, “Do you want to play, or do you want to call it a night?”
If I call it a night, Drake wins. He’ll have ruined my night. If I stay, will I even be able to focus on the game? At this point, I have no idea.
“Raine?” Everett prods. He moves in front of me, blocking out the entire world around us as I look up at him. “I’m proud of you.”
I pull back, surprised. “What did you say?”
“I said, I’m proud of you.”
“Why?”
“For standing up to him.” He lets my hand go and squeezes the back of his neck. “And, uh, you’re not a…you’re not a slut,” he forces out. “It was a dick thing for him to say.”
I laugh dryly and fold my arms. “Thanks.”
“Don’t let him get to you.”
“Who said I let him get to me?” I challenge.
His gaze bounces around my face, making me feel vulnerable and more seen than I’d like to admit.
“I can see it,” he explains.
“Yeah, well.” I lift a shoulder. “Cutting me down is kind of his M.O. when he’s frustrated, so… ”
“Doesn’t make it okay.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t,” I reply. “But, it’s kind of par for the course with him, so don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sorry I was such a dick when we first met,” he adds.
My brows bunch. “What?”
“I was a dick. I called you stupid for dating him, and”—he looks at the ground as his tongue runs along his upper teeth—“it was a fucked-up thing to say.” Meeting my gaze again, he adds, “You aren’t stupid, all right? Honestly, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve met, which considering my friends and family, is saying something.”
My breath hitches as his words wash over me, but I force my lungs to exhale and peek up at him again. “Well, since we’re complimenting each other, I want to thank you, too.”
“For what?”
“For not letting him get under your skin, either. For standing up for me without taking the bait and hitting him. I know, in a weird way, it was kind of a big possibility you'd fight with him, but the fact that you didn’t means a lot to me.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Thank you for being more levelheaded than Drake ever was.”
His nod is slow as if he can’t decide whether or not he agrees with me, and I hate it. The question in his eyes. The slight dip of his brows. The hesitation. I get it. He can be controlling. He can be bossy sometimes and a little over the top. But for him to wonder if he’s anything like Drake Haitt? For him to even think he’s in the same league?
I open my mouth to say something. Anything. But before I can, he presses his hand to my back and guides me to the family room. “Come on.”
“Ev—”
“Want to watch a movie or something?”
“A movie? ”
“Yeah. I think we’ve had enough fun for one night, don’t you?”
I nod and let him lead me to the room he shares with Griffin.
Yeah. Whatever just happened in there? I think I’ve had enough of it, too.