Chapter Thirty Nine #2
“You’re the one who’s been waiting for a way to devastate him. What did you do, wiretap my phone?” Rhys’ tongue toys with his lip ring, considering me closely.
“Do I really look like I spend my evenings sitting around eavesdropping on conversations?” he drawls, and I hate how calm he is. How he won’t give me a straight answer, as if I don’t deserve one.
“No. You look like you chase deaf girls through the woods and beat them with a paddle. You look like you stalk me in the library and leave cute little notes that you’re always watching.
You look like the kind of guy to pay someone to lock me in the dark and attack my hearing implants. You look like—”
“Stop,” Rhys frowns, holding up a hand. “I haven’t done any of those things.”
“Yes, yes you did,” I nod, as if I can convince us both by nodding. “You attacked me in the woods, you…you hit me,” I choke out, the tears burning hotter. I thought I’d got past this, passing it off as some freshman fuckery, but Rhys’ eyes widen in confusion.
“Harper, I’ve never hit you. I watched you run off into the woods that night and then I left. I had to get the hog back before farmer Lee realized I’d borrowed it again.”
“But if it wasn’t you, then who?”
Our phones beep simultaneously. Rhys snatches his up first, jaw clenched, and I glance down.
My own face is illuminated on his screen, my eyes staring beyond the camera as my mouth moves.
“Rhys Waversea is nothing and he knows it,” repeats across the screen, cut, chopped and edited to play over and over.
My stomach drops. I follow the gaze to the open laptop on the desk and the small red light blinking beside the built-in webcam.
Someone’s watching, and they’ve made me into a gif.
Fury explodes from him, the phone slamming into the wall beside my head until the cracked screen splinters in his grip.
His other hand moves to my neck, fingers tight enough to leave bruises, inked knuckles twitching with the restraint he barely maintains.
Keeping my head held high and my expression neutral, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of my fear.
“If it’s not obvious, we’re done here,” I say evenly, and he knows I mean it. I won't play this game anymore. Every second with him upends my world and mocks my resolve. His moods, his words, and his arrogance have already stolen my chance at a fresh start. I won’t give him another second.
A tick beats through Rhys’s jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His thumb drags across my bottom lip and the look in his eyes makes my pulse stutter. Lust and danger coil together in a way that’s almost unbearable. Flicking his gaze to his Rolex, Rhys gives a single nod.
“Yes, we are. An extra clause to Clayton’s deal, stall you for ten minutes and I’ll never have to see his face again.
I’ve done my part.” Rhys releases me as quickly as he grabbed me, sauntering away as if I didn’t see the flicker of hurt in his blue eyes.
His laughter ricochets through the auditorium, my heart slamming against my ribs.
The pressure in my chest makes it hard to breathe, and suddenly I’m running.
Bursting into the hallway, I refuse to overthink what I’m going to say or do. I just know that I need to stop him.
Stumbling through the corridors, I shove past a cluster of students clogging the doorway and sprint across the courtyard.
Phones flash in my direction and heads swivel.
The whispers quickly follow, no doubt the same gif reaching the entire campus by now.
I’ve insulted their King, marking myself as enemy number one. I ignore them all for now.
All that matters is Clay believing I’d betray him. If I can make him see I’d never hurt him, even just for a second, maybe it won’t be too late. After everything we’ve shared, the mountains we’ve conquered, I won’t let him throw it all away on a lie.
McAllister Halls rises ahead, shadows pooling beneath its windows.
I push inside, lungs burning, heart pleading.
Scrambling up the five flights of stairs, mostly thanks to the use of the railing, I see a figure step out of the room halfway down the corridor.
A pent-up breath escapes me, relief washing over me as I gain on the hooded figure.
But as I near, I can tell merely from the body shape and size it’s not him. He’s too short, too skinny.
Kenneth turns to me with wide glistening eyes, his red hair poking out from beneath a hoodie that smells distinctly like Clay. Pointing to the made bed inside the open doorway, my heart breaks for the man I won’t see again. The one who has been saving me since before I knew I needed it.
Arms slide around me from behind, our joined misery feeding the void spreading through my chest. For a moment, I can close my eyes on an inhale and pretend he’s still here.
Pretend I still have a chance to find out what he means to me.
But Kenneth’s voice beside my ear shatters the charade, bringing me back to the present.
“He isn’t coming back, is he?”
I shake my head as tears begin to fall once again.
I’d told Clay to own his pain. But now that I’m standing here looking at his empty open drawers, I feel like the biggest of hypocrites because there’s no owning this.
No fixing this. Like his past, his future is now bleak and the reality is starting to dawn that now mine is too.