Chapter 19
Why did I agree to come again?
If the last party was considered more family friendly, I don’t even want to know what this party is rated as.
Two girls are currently making out on one of the pool loungers while a group of guys watching them, cheering them on.
More than half the girls are topless, and I’m shocked to see more than a few couples having outright sex for everyone to see.
Lee and Jackson are a little more than engrossed in all the sexuality going on around us.
It doesn’t bother me. One is my brother, and the other is nowhere on the list of men I’m interested in.
It doesn’t take long before I’m left to my own devices while they explore their—options.
Since I’m not into watching live porn, I slip into the pool house.
It’s quiet and peaceful away from the laughter and noise.
Curious, I begin to explore. The pool house is nearly half the size of the actual mansion Jackson lives in.
It’s expansive and as opulent as the main house.
A noise in the back, toward the kitchen, catches my attention.
I walk toward it, and I realize what it is I’m hearing.
Low, heavy groans. My gaze catches on the sofa, eyes widening when I see Colter.
He’s sunk into the cushions, legs spread, head tilted back over the top of the sofa, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.
A girl I recognize as one of Laura’s Barbie friends is naked, on her knees between his thighs, lapping at his dick like it’s her personal party favor.
The look of pleasure on his face causes my stomach to plummet.
His fist is wrapped up in her blonde locks as he controls the pace of her blow job, his hips lifting to thrust into her mouth.
“That’s it. Suck it like a good little bitch,” he growls. “Fuck.”
Something inside of me shatters a bit. All his blustering about me being his—it was a lie.
No, it wasn’t a lie. It was something I made up in my head. He never said I was his. He said I was his responsibility. The intimacy the other day was something I imagined. A fairytale I let take over.
“Swallow it all,” he orders her.
I stagger back a step, but my shoulder bumps against the doorframe, loud enough to draw his attention. His eyes snap open, hazy from pleasure, and then lock on me.
For a fraction of a second, the look in them changes—dark, searing, like he’s furious I’m here. Or furious I caught him. Or maybe furious at himself. But then it’s gone, shuttered, as cold as the hard line of his jaw.
The girl doesn’t notice me. She’s too busy choking on him, hands braced against his thighs. His fist tightens in her hair, but his gaze stays pinned to mine.
Heat rushes up my throat, choking me worse than any hand ever could. My chest seizes, like my ribs are too tight for my lungs. I should leave. I should slam the door, pretend I never saw this. Pretend I don’t care.
But I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can only watch him watching me while another girl makes him come apart right in front of me.
His lips part, the smallest twitch of something there—regret? Warning? Ownership? I don’t know. I don’t want to know.
I finally find my legs. My voice is gone, my pride shredded, so I do the only thing I can.
I run.
Out the pool house door, across the patio, past the laughter and shrieks and drunken music that now feel like nails dragging across my skin. My vision blurs with the sting in my eyes, but I don’t stop until I’m past the crowd, past the mansion lights, into the dark where no one can see me breaking.
There must be a better way to get back to Broken Ridge while on foot.
Taking the road while wearing flip-flops sucks and despite the sun having sunk behind the hills over an hour ago the cement is too hot to go barefoot.
I hope Lee gets my text soon. It still on read.
I know it might be a while before he sees it since I saw him heading into the house with a leggy brunette before I wandered away.
Going back outside to the party was not an option.
Pretending everything is okay when it isn’t also not an option.
Lucky for me, it isn’t pitch-black outside.
There is enough moon to cast enough light to keep the road from drowning in darkness.
Still, the sounds—the rustle of brush, the quick skitter of unseen paws, the low cries of night creatures I can’t name—make my skin prickle.
City streets at midnight never rattled me like this.
There were always streetlights. Witnesses.
I force my mind elsewhere, chasing distractions. John said he was going to have me attending the local college. I wonder when I can start. He hasn’t given me an application to fill out or asked me about what I want to major in. Nothing.
I’m still thinking about it when headlights slice through the night. I squint, hand lifting to block the glare as I step off the pavement, gravel crunching under my flip-flops.
The vehicle slows, the rumble dropping to a crawl, and my pulse spikes. I don’t have a weapon to defend myself.
This could end up sucking big time.
The truck rolls to a stop, and when the door swings open, the last person I want to see steps out. Colter.
Of course.
“What the hell do you want?” I snap, folding my arms.
“Get in the truck,” he says flatly, all command, no patience.
I let out a sharp laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I don’t have time for this shit.” His voice cuts sharper. “Get in the goddamn truck.”
“Fuck you,” I shout back, spinning on my heel and striding toward Broken Ridge.
I wonder if I can outrun him?
Doubt it. Not in these sandals, at least.
“What the hell are you doing walking in the fucking dark, Peyton?” His voice is deep, with a low growl.
Ignoring him, I keep walking. “Getting away from you. Now go away.”
Colter curses up a storm, and my soul lightens at causing his frustration.
“Stop acting like a fucking child,” he roars. “Get in the fucking truck, and we’ll talk about it.”
Stopping, I turn around to glare at him. “There is nothing to talk about, Colter. I want to go back to the ranch.”
He stalks toward me, slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in. My instincts scream at me to run, but the damn sandals on my feet would trip me before I got ten steps. I should’ve kicked them off.
Too late now.
So I plant my feet, lift my chin, and brace myself. If he wants to get in my face and scream, fine. I can scream right back.
But that’s not what happens.
One second, he’s a few feet away, shadow and menace wrapped in muscle.
The next, I’m flipped up and over his shoulder like I weigh nothing, air rushing from my lungs in a shocked gasp.
My view of the world tilts, all dirt road and his broad back, until all I can see is gravel crunching under his boots.
For a beat, I’m too stunned to react. Then rage explodes through me. My fists pound against his back, wild and useless.
“Put me down!” I scream, my voice ricocheting off the empty night. “Do you hear me? Put me the hell down!”
The fucker ignores me and keeps walking.
“Shut the fuck up, Peyton,” he snarls. I hear his truck door open and then I am haphazardly thrown into the backseat before he slams the door in my face. I open my mouth to scream when I meet a pair of large, curious brown eyes.
Wonderful, he’s stuck me in the same truck as his cock-sucking girlfriend. She sits in the passenger seat, a sneer on her swollen lips.
The driver’s door jerks open, and Colter climbs inside.
His girlfriend drops the sneer and pastes a bright smile on her face.
He doesn’t look at either of us as he shifts into gear and pulls back on the road.
My plan to scream at him disappears. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the blonde.
“What the hell are you doing out on the road this late, Peyton?”
“Walking back to the ranch,” is my only response.
“This fucking late?”
I shrug. “Didn’t want to stay.”
He grunts, knowing he’s the reason why I didn’t. “Could have had Lee drive you.”
“He was busy.”
The growl he gives tells me he isn’t happy with my short responses.
“Where were you going?” I ask curiously after a beat of silence.
“Home.”
Home? He is taking her to his house?
I want to ask—God, I want to—but I bite down hard on my bottom lip and keep it in. None of this is my business. None of him is my business.
When the truck finally turns into the entrance of Broken Ridge, a rush of relief slips out of me in a sigh. Almost over. A few more seconds and I can get away from him. Away from the fantasy I created in my mind.
The silence stretches, heavy, until he rolls to a stop in front of the main house.
I don’t wait for him to say anything. My hand goes straight for the door handle.
I’m not thanking him. I didn’t ask for this ride, didn’t want it.
I’d rather have walked the whole damn way than sit this close to him, breathing the same air, feeling the weight of his presence.
Especially with his girlfriend in the front seat.
“We’re going to talk about this, Peyton.”
I shake my head, not bothering to look at him as I slip from the truck. “There’s nothing to talk about, Colter.”
I don’t know if he’s about to say more, and honestly, I don’t care. I slam the door harder than I need to and march up the steps without looking back. His headlights stay locked on me, steady and unyielding, until I push through the front door and let it click shut behind me.
I should leave it alone. I should walk away, forget the ride, forget him.
But I don’t. I find myself drifting toward the window, fingers brushing the curtain aside enough to see.
His truck is still there, idling like he doesn’t trust me to stay put.
Only when I’m safely inside does he finally back up, turn slow, and disappear down the drive.
I whisper it in my head like a curse: I hate Colter Shaw.
I hate him. Over and over, like maybe repetition will make it true.
He’s an arrogant, insufferable asshole—he’s proved it more than once.
I let that belief slip slightly on the trail.
Thinking he truly cared for me when I am nothing to him but a burden. A responsibility.
Still, part of me can’t simply toss away his softer side.
I can’t ignore how he comforted me on the trail.
I can’t ignore how he refused to let me walk alone in the dark.
Yes, he used brute force to shove me into his truck, but underneath the rough edges, there was something else—concern.
And then, the last nail in the coffin: he waited.
He didn’t leave until he was sure I was safe.
Those three things stick like burrs under my skin. They’re not going away.
But what I saw in the pool house isn’t going away either. It isn’t his fault. We aren’t in a relationship. He never told me he was interested in me. I created a fantasy out of simple kindness.
And I am the one who must live with that.