Chapter 8 Annika #2
I had already given my virginity to Owen the day before, so none of what he’s saying is making sense.
“You weren’t our next target, Nik,” Owen says softly, drawing my attention from my brother. “You were our only target.”
“You son of a bitch! I should—”
I hold out my hand, halting what’s sure to be another drag-out fight. “Wait. Y’all weren’t talking about someone else that day? You were talking about—”
“You.” Carson removes his hat and runs a hand through his hair before placing it backward on his head. “Owen was telling us about the incredible afternoon he got to spend with you, and we were trying to figure out how to tell you what we all really wanted.”
My breath catches in my throat. I remember that day like it was yesterday.
Dre seething in his hospital bed while he waited for surgery, saying the guys had been bragging about sex with girls and who would be next.
That he couldn’t stomach the thought of his friends treating girls that way and they had gotten into a fight.
I assumed they were comparing partner notes, and I was nothing more than another notch on Owen’s bedpost. I thought what we’d done had been special, that I meant more to him than that.
I’d buried the almost all-consuming hurt and let anger fill its place instead.
That one awful night had fueled my hatred for years.
Except now the full picture is starting to become clear. They were comparing notes, but about me. I was their next target, but not just to get into bed with. For something…more.
“Wait a damn minute. What do you mean, you spent the afternoon with her?” Dre growls. “Doing fucking what?”
“Doing some fucking sounds about right,” Carson mutters under his breath, earning an elbow to the ribs from Owen. “Shit, sorry.”
“Nik?” Dre asks, uncertainty in his tone.
Owen’s eyes meet mine, and I see it then. He’s known the truth this whole time. He could’ve set the record straight and cleared his name. Instead, they all let me rant and rave and bash them at every opportunity I had. They let me hate them.
That exhaustion from earlier returns with a vengeance, along with a slew of emotions I’m physically incapable of handling at the moment., and it all hits me like a freight train. A tear slips free before I can stop it.
“Nik—”
I hold up my hand to stop whatever my brother was going to say.
“I am tired and honestly overwhelmed by the sheer level of testosterone in here. I kindly ask that you all leave and give me some space.”
For a moment, no one moves or says a word. They’re watching me warily in between sharing loaded looks with each other.
“We’ll go,” Roz says, then shocks me by dropping a kiss on the back of my head.
Dre growls, “Keep your disgusting lips off her, asshole.”
“Make me, hockey boy.”
When Dre takes a step forward, I know this is only going to end badly.
“Out!” I demand, moving out of Roz’s hold. “Now!”
“But Nik—”
“All of you, or so help me god, I will call Sheriff Myers and have you all charged with trespassing. You know he’ll do it too because the man is bored out of his mind and always looking for something that makes him feel useful.”
“C’mon, guys.” Owen’s eyes meet mine. “Let’s do what the lady’s asked.”
Roscoe sets the book on the table then maneuvers around me, careful not to brush up against my arm, heading for the door with his friends. Before they slip out, he glances over his shoulder.
“Night, baby girl. You can expect that talk I mentioned earlier to happen sooner rather than later.”
With that, they cross the landing to enter Owen’s apartment. Knowing they’re that close is wreaking havoc on my nerves.
“Baby sis, I know—”
“I wasn’t kidding, Dre. Please go. I need some time to process everything that just happened, and I can’t do that with you here, continuing to plead your case.”
“But—”
My eyes narrow. “I dare you to tell me you don’t have a full-fledged lecture ready and waiting.”
He grimaces. “I mean…”
“Exactly. Despite what The Grapevine says, I’m not dating them. It’s all a ruse to protect me from my ex-boyfriend.”
His head tilts, worry replaced with a look of deadly intent. “Frederick’s here? Has that loser been hassling you?”
“Yes, and those enemies of ours have been there to shoo him off each time. Can you say the same?”
“Nik, you know I—”
“We are not kids anymore, Dre. I don’t need you to protect me anymore, and for the record, I don’t need them to either.
But…” I debate whether it’s smart to say the next words but decide I’ve never held anything back from my twin, so why would I start now?
“But it was nice. Not fighting with them, or at least, not with the same hatred and anger that used to eat me alive back then. They were our friends, Dre. I was hurt on so many levels.”
His features soften as he watches me. “I knew it was hard on you, but you played the part so well, I think I started to believe that maybe you didn’t care about them anymore.”
“I didn’t. Don’t.” My sigh is dredged up from the depths of my soul. “That was so long ago, and we’re different people now. Whatever’s between us now is just old friends offering a helping hand. Nothing more.”
“You sure?”
I say, “Yeah. I’m sure,” but my gut flips because deep down, I’m not sure about anything anymore.
“Fine. Then I’ll let you get some rest. Just…” He runs his hands down his face. “Give me a call tomorrow. Let’s grab lunch.”
“Okay.”
He walks over, wrapping me in a hug I needed more than I ever could’ve anticipated.
“I love you, Nikki.”
“I love you too, doc.”
He snorts. “Oh god. Please don’t start with that again.”
I smile into his chest. “I mean, I always loved that nickname. When you were in your hip-hop phase.”
Pulling back, I catch his eyeroll. “There are some doozies I could pull out of retirement too. Remember that.”
My fist bounces off his rock-hard bicep. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Night, baby sis. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
He walks out, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone. It’s what I wanted—no, demanded—but suddenly the quiet is way too loud, leaving me at the mercy of the thoughts flooding my brain on repeat.
“For fuck’s sake, Annika Reed. Grab a mango margarita seltzer out of the fridge, run a bath, and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist. Do not let any of this get to you. That’s a problem for future you. Present you deserves a break.”
Heading for the fridge, I grab the can and hesitate for only a split-second before grabbing the pint of strawberry ice cream out of the freezer as well.
“Go big or go home, I suppose.”
With a shrug, I indulge in a pity party for one. Tomorrow is a new day, with new problems. Tonight, I’m pretending none of them exist—problems and men alike.