Chapter 9
Rhys
It was a quick ride back to the apartment, my brain clouded with anger, frustration, and hurt. I knew I had no right to feel this damn upset, but I couldn’t help it.
My blood was boiling.
When I pulled onto her street, I was nearing the entrance to the parking garage when I saw him.
Apparently, she’d seen him at the same time.
“Rhys.” My name was a warning on her lips.
I yanked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes, barely getting my car to the curb before I threw it into park and jumped out, stomping towards him.
“You motherfucking son of a bitch!” I growled, reaching out and bunching Stu’s shirt into my hand, shoving him against the brick wall of the apartment complex. “I should fucking kill you for putting your pathetic piece of shit hands on her.”
In the back of my mind, I knew I should back off.
Stu was the Chief of Police, after all. He was probably armed.
But then I played back what Sloane had told me.
The look in her eyes, the fear, and the shame, and I didn’t fucking care.
I’d failed her enough over the past few months; I wasn’t about to do it again.
“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing waiting out here for my girl, outside of our home, but I swear to fucking god, if I ever see you outside of this building again, you’ll be leaving on a goddamn stretcher! You hear me?”
Stu’s lips eased into a smile, his eyes looking past me and at the car where Sloane sat.
“You don’t fucking look at her. She has nothing to do with you anymore. You hear me? Nothing.”
He chuckled. A deep, condescending laugh while shaking his head. “She’ll never be done with me, Armstrong. You’re nothing but a placeholder. She’ll be back.”
“Don’t hold your fucking breath,” I spat, shoving his shoulder back before turning around. I almost made it back to my car. Almost. I had every intention of getting her inside and up to the apartment, away from this asshole, but then he opened his loud fucking mouth.
“Have you fucked her yet? Heard that sweet little gasp right before she comes?”
I saw her eyes go wide, her face flushing a deep red like she was reading my mind.
This motherfucker had a goddamn death wish. I walked back around the hood of my car, stomping in Stu’s direction when the passenger door flew open. “Rhys! Don’t!”
I ignored her, Stu’s little smile fueling my anger as I walked closer. But before I could get to him, a hand wrapped around my arm.
“Please, Rhys. Let’s just go home.”
My jaw clamped shut, my fingers twitching with the desire to punch that smug fucking grin off his lips.
“Come find me when you’re ready for a real man again, Sloane!” Stu hollered, chuckling to himself.
I took another step towards him, but she pulled me to a stop, jerking my arm until I was forced to face her.
“Please, let’s just go home,” She begged.
“Let me go, Sloane,” I growled, keeping Stu in my peripheral vision.
She could tell I was way past the point of being able to leave this alone. Her eyes widened just a tad before she lifted her hands and framed my face for the third time tonight.
“Just me and you, Rhys.”
Before I could respond, her hands were sliding along my jaw, then threading into my hair.
And then her lips crashed against mine.
It was like a bucket of ice water was dropped over my head. She melted into me, her body flush with mine. And for the first time since we left the stadium, I could think straight.
The anger in my body dissipated. The hurt, the betrayal, the frustration. All of it was a thing of the past. I didn’t care.
My hand fell to the small of her back, bunching the fabric of the jersey in my palm while I held her closer, the softness of her lips moving in tandem with mine.
I would kick myself for this in about twenty minutes, but as much as I’d like to hold her like this all night, Stu was still close enough to touch her.
So, I pulled away.
My forehead rested against hers. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, her chest heaving while she fought to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling softly at Sloane—my calm in the storm.
Turning to face Stu, I gripped her hip with my hand, pushing her gently so my body was angled in front of hers. “Leave. Now.”
Stu’s jaw ticked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “This won’t be the last time you hear from me, Armstrong. This isn’t over,” he snapped, turning to head back to his car.
I waited until he was in his car and pulling away from the curb before rushing Sloane back to my Audi.
As I pulled into the garage, I took several slow breaths to calm my racing heart.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I just—You should’ve seen your face—the look in your eyes. I wanted to distract you. I thought maybe if Stu saw us kiss, he would know that we were together and just… leave us alone.” She kneaded her hands together nervously while she talked.
I ignored the small pinch in my heart at her confession. The painful reminder that this was only for show. I swallowed, then cleared my throat. “Right… Appearances.”
“You get it,” she added anxiously, chuckling slightly.
There were a lot of emotions taking up space in my chest, swarming dangerously with no remorse. But only one of them stuck.
One tiny little molecule of hope.
Hope that maybe, just maybe, she felt what I did, and that was why she stopped me. That was why she kissed me. That was why she couldn’t look me in the eyes right now.
I could find another time to dwell and be pissed at Stu and Dom. But tonight?
Tonight, I just wanted to savor that little sliver of hope and remember only the feeling of her lips against mine and her fingers tangled in my hair, not the situation that got them there.
***
I lay in bed later that night, my whole body tense, my mind spinning. I had every intention of coming home and drinking a beer or two to unwind for the hectic night we’d endured, but I couldn’t get my brain to stop.
My thoughts bounced around like I was running the bases, caught between second and third. The good and the bad volleyed back and forth as I tried to settle on an emotion.
Any muscle that wasn’t rigid or stiff was twitching with the desire to do something, anything, about my anger with Stu.
Growing frustrated with the restlessness, I shoved my comforter to my feet and stood out of bed. I knew that my anger was misplaced. Realistically, all of this was Stu’s fault. But Dom should’ve told me what was going on with Sloane.
He knew what she was going through, and yes, she made him promise not to tell, but if he was going to break any promise, it should’ve been that one.
He should’ve told me about the call Cami received, her begging for help to get out of a controlling and abusive relationship.
I should’ve been the one to help her. Most of my anger was with myself, but I couldn’t admit that fully. So instead, I aimed it all at Dom.
I threw on a shirt and snagged my running shoes, quietly exiting my room. There was honestly no need to tiptoe around; Sloane was definitely out for the night.
But she needed a good night’s sleep, and I didn’t want to chance disrupting it.
Once I got outside, I planned to take my usual route. Three miles around the downtown area and then loop back to the apartment. Six miles total. Enough to wear myself down.
But once my feet hit the pavement, my frustrations pulled me in an entirely different direction. Before I could process just where my feet were carrying me, I was eight miles in and banging on Dom and Cami’s door.
I felt a twinge of guilt in my chest when Dom whipped the door open, Cami’s purple silk bonnet covering her hair, and her robe wrapped tightly around her while Dom shielded most of her body with his tall, wide frame.
It was the middle of the night, and they were obviously sleeping. But I was pissed.
Dom could see and feel the rage brewing inside of me. “Go to bed, Cam,” he warned in a low voice, not knowing exactly why I was here, but knowing me enough to see that whatever got me so worked up was personal and between the two of us.
“Should I call Sloane?” Cami squeaked.
“No,” I snapped, earning a warning look to watch my tone from Dom. “This is between me and Dom.”
He squared his shoulders, standing a little taller. “Camille. Go.”
With her eyes wide, she turned and scurried back upstairs.
Dom stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him.
I opened my mouth to let everything loose, but he held up a hand to stop me. “Before you start—" His voice was tense, lip curled in a protective anger. “Don’t you ever use that tone with my wife, Armstrong. First and last fucking warning. Hear me?”
I nodded, running my tongue over my teeth. I’d apologize to Cami later.
“Now. We got a problem?”
My jaw flexed, my cheeks and neck burning with rage. I jabbed my finger into Dom’s chest. “You fucking knew! You knew he put his hands on her, and you didn’t tell me?!”
His shoulders fell at the realization of why I was here, seething at his doorstep. Guilt flashed over his deep brown eyes. “I couldn’t, Rhys. Both she and Cam made me swear I wouldn’t say anything.”
My chest heaved, heart pounding from both my anger and the run here. “I don’t give a fuck, Dom! Not a single one. I thought you were my friend. You should’ve called me. You should’ve told me the second you knew what was going on!”
“That’s not up to me, Rhys! She’s a grown-ass woman. My friendship with her and her friendship with my wife are separate from you. And don’t forget that while this was happening, you were piss drunk, fucking every brown-haired girl you laid your eyes on!”
My anger boiled over, guilt and rage burning an ugly path through my chest. Deep down, I knew that everything Dom was saying was right.
I had no right or reason to be this irritated with my best friend, but I couldn’t help it.
And before I could regain control of my thoughts, my hand clenched into a fist and drove forward, connecting with his jaw.
Dom stumbled back, lifting his hand to his face to wipe the blood oozing from his split lip. I could tell he was pissed. His jaw ticked, his warm, tawny skin flushing a dark pink almost immediately.
And as much as I had hoped that punching Dom would bring me some sort of satisfaction, it didn’t. I was still fucking guilty as shit and pissed at the world.
Dom’s fist clenched and unclenched three times before he said anything. “You done?”
The two of us stared each other down for a second, anger and tension blanketing the humid air around us.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Dom turned, getting his keys from the entryway table and stepping back outside, pulling the door shut and locking it behind him.
“What?”
He shook his head, gesturing toward his Audi parked in the driveway. “Get in the fucking car, asshole. I’m taking you home.” Dom shoved past me, clicking the key fob a couple of times to unlock his car.
Almost immediately, I was overwhelmed with guilt. I’d woken them up in the middle of the night and sucker punched my best friend in the face. “No, Dom. Don’t worry about it.”
“Shut up and get in. It’s two in the morning. You’re not running back.”
I let out a resigned sigh, dragging my hand over my face before making my way over to his car and climbing inside.
Dom put the car in reverse and turned to look at me. “You’re a dick.”
“I know,” I replied, sinking back into the leather seat.
The ride back to the apartment was short and quiet, Dom trying to control his frustrations with me while I fought with the overwhelming amount of guilt trying to consume me.
When he pulled up in front of the building, he threw his car in park and shifted to look me in the eyes.
“I get it, man. I know why you’re pissed.
And the only fucking reason I didn’t knock you on your ass is ‘cause I know that I should’ve told you.
I wanted to. But I promised Cami that I wouldn’t, and I promised Sloane that she could get out of this without you.
She wouldn’t admit it, but she was broken.
She felt weak and lost. She wanted you. But I also knew you were going through it.
You’re in love with her, and she was seemingly happy with another man.
I get it. But I knew you weren’t in the right headspace to help her, so I kept the promise I made.
You get one hit because I understand why you’re pissed.
But that’s it. Don’t ever come to my fucking house like that again, Rhys. ”
I took a shaky breath, swallowing past the emotion that tightened my throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Good.”
We sat in silence for a second before Dom spoke up again. “You good?”
I scrubbed a hand over my face, shaking my head softly. “I don’t know.”
“We good?” he asked, lifting a dark brow in my direction.
“That’s a question for you and your fat lip.”
Dom rolled his eyes. “We’re good. Get the fuck out of my car and sleep it off.”
“Night,” I grumbled, “Thanks for the ride.” I climbed out, and he sped down the street, his tires screeching against the pavement.
While my run did the job of wearing me out, I was still so fucking pissed.
I’d hoped that taking it out on Dom would satiate the rage burning through my body, but it didn’t.
I was just as guilt-ridden as I was angry, with no one else to take it out on.
If I took it out on Stu like I so desperately craved, it would come back to bite me in the ass almost immediately.
I rode the elevator up to the apartment and snuck in silently, latching the deadbolt behind me. I walked through the dark apartment, gently pushing her door open to make sure she was still doing okay, then sulked to my room and flopped onto the bed.
I would never forgive myself for leaving her alone when she needed me most. Never. And even if it physically hurt to be so fucking in love with her while she only ever saw me as a best friend, I would suffer through it to make sure I was always by her side.
It was worth it. She was worth it.
Every single ounce of pain was slightly bearable just to know she was safe, cared for, and out of harm’s way.