Chapter 9
Nine
Hallie
The morning light filtered through the blinds in soft, dusty stripes, and for a few seconds I didn’t know why everything felt… different.
Then it hit me all at once.
My body remembered before my brain did. There was a deep, satisfying ache between my thighs. Raw skin on my wrists where the rope rubbed me. A faint soreness in my jaw. And my throat felt scratchy, like I’d screamed for hours—which I pretty much had.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, bringing one hand to my forehead in disbelief.
It happened. It really happened.
I pressed my thighs together and felt the slick reminder of how thoroughly he’d wrecked me. My face burned. I’d cried. Begged. Come so many times I lost count. Let him use my mouth like I was just his little fuckdoll.
He’d used my body in every way except the one I stupidly and desperately wanted the most.
I lay there for ten minutes trying to process the experience while daydreaming about the next one. I wanted to feel him stretch me, claim me, and fuck me until the only word I remembered was his name. I closed my eyes and pictured his face, clenching my thighs together at the thought of him–
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, jolting me out of my daydream. I rolled over and reached for it, furrowing my brows at the Venmo notification.
Venmo
Knox Ballard sent you $100.00
“textile damages”
I laughed out loud while finding his name in my contacts, my thumbs flying as I typed a quick text.
Hallie: That makes me feel like a prostitute, Knox.
Knox: I’m just paying for the bra.
Hallie: Um, I get my bras from Walmart these days. I assure you it wasn’t $100.
Venmo
Knox Ballard sent you $200.00
“Then upgrade.”
Hallie: Knox wtf
Venmo
You sent Knox Ballard $300.00
“I don’t want your money.”
Knox: Wanna be a brat? Fine. I know what size you wear. And now I get to choose.
I scoffed as I read the text, wondering exactly how he’d worked out my bra size as he was cutting it off of me. He’d probably just guess, I told myself. Guys like Knox probably had a good eye for measurements.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and forced myself to get up. My legs felt like Jell-o, reminded me with every step what Knox had done to me. I took a long shower, letting the hot water soothe the faint rope burn on my wrists and the ache between my thighs.
Still exhausted, I spent the day puttering around the apartment, trying to reclaim some normalcy. I cleaned. I updated my Indeed profile. I scrolled through available marketing jobs, hovering over a few of them but never submitting my résumé.
It was like I was frozen in place here. I was wasting my college degree, running food deliveries while avoiding looking for something better.
But my old job drained me, too, so for now I was just suspended in place.
I had no idea how to work toward my future when I didn’t know what I wanted it to look like yet.
And every day that passed, it got harder to dodge questions about my coming and going at odd hours. I almost wondered if it would be better to just tell my family the truth: You all were right. I couldn’t cut it on my own in a new city. I fucked up.
How much longer could I last here?
The sun was dipping low by the time I finally dragged myself out of the apartment for a DoorDash shift. My car was parked in its usual spot at the back of our house, on the side of the detached garage. But as I slid into the driver's seat, a black shopping bag on the passenger side caught my eye.
I froze. The doors had been locked, and my windows were up. No one could have gotten in. So how the hell...?
My eyes dropped to the gold script on the front of the bag: Solène. I knew it was a luxury lingerie store in Gold Coast, a neighborhood I didn’t exactly frequent with my dwindling bank account. In fact, I’d never set foot inside the place.
But somehow, Knox not only knew of its existence but had also walked in there, picked out something for me, and somehow left it in my car without any evidence he’d broken in. Was he some kind of fucking wizard?
What else didn’t I know about Knox?
I’d have to contemplate that later. I reached into the bag like I was opening a birthday present, my fingers grazing tissue paper inside.
I pulled it out and unfolded it, revealing a black lace balconette bra and matching thong–a delicate set that screamed "look at me" before it begged to be torn off.
There were subtle wildflowers embroidered along the sides of the cups with little pops of yellow, orange, and sage green woven into the black lace.
The design reminded me of the wildflower patch outside of the garage apartment.
The thought of him seeing the wildflower design and connecting it to me made my head spin. I was starting to realize Knox paid attention in a way most people didn’t, and I couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked that closely. God, it was such a fucking turn-on.
And then I noticed the tag. $179. 34D.
“Holy shit,” I whispered, a tingle settling between my legs.
I sighed, feeling overwhelmed, and carefully placed the lacy set on my center console.
Underneath another layer of tissue, there was a soft, seamless T-shirt bra in an identical style to the one he’d cut off of me before.
But this one seemed sturdier and softer–nothing at all like the flimsy Wal-mart bras I made do with.
And, just like the lace one, it was exactly my size.
Most of the bras I wore were one wrong move away from a sudden underwire impalement, so I was as happy as a kid on Christmas morning.
“I fucking love you, Knox Ballard,” I said, hugging the new bra to my chest. I hadn’t wanted him to spend any money on me, but I had to admit, being spoiled felt pretty nice.
It was a shame we only had a two-week agreement.
When I turned to put my new lingerie back in the bag, a knock on the driver’s side window startled me. Expecting Knox, I was surprised to see Adrian motioning for me to roll down the window.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I told him when the glass lowered.
He leaned against his crossed arms, peering past me onto the center console, where my new lingerie was still on full display. “Wow, big night planned?”
I followed his gaze and groaned. “Don’t look at that. Where did you even come from?”
“Saw you getting in the car. Figured I’d say hi,” he said with a shrug. His eyes flicked back to me. “So where are you headed, little sis?”
“None of your business.”
“That sounds sketchy as fuck.”
I rolled my eyes. “And where are you headed? Here to mooch off Mom and Dad and steal their food?”
I knew I had no business in calling him out for mooching off our parents, considering I was living on their property and also stealing their food–but thankfully, Adrian didn’t point that out.
Instead, he lifted the beach towel and goggles that were tucked under his arm.
“No, I’m here to get some laps in. And I leave with half a rotisserie chicken, that’s purely coincidental. ”
“Yeah, okay. Try not to drown,” I said, beginning to roll up the window. But his hand shot into the car to stop me. “What?”
His brows furrowed, and for once, he didn’t look amused. Adrian was usually all jokes and deflection, so the sudden seriousness made my stomach dip. “Everything good with you?”
My heart began to race. “Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know, my Spidey senses are tingling.” Adrian scratched the back of his neck. “And I’m just trying to be a good brother. Just know that if something’s wrong, you can talk to me. And I promise not to be a dick about it.”
He almost sounded… sincere.
The words were on the tip of my tongue. My confession.
I could admit that he wasn’t the only one in the family wasting his college degree.
I could tell him right now that I’d quit my marketing job and I’d been running food deliveries all over the suburbs, and the secrecy would be over.
But telling him would mean saying it out loud for the first time.
Making it real. And once it was real, I wouldn’t get to pretend I was still the capable, together version of myself everyone expected.
I imagined the look of pity on his face, and I couldn't say the words.
“Thank you, but you don’t need to worry about me. And I’m trying to leave, so you need to get out of the way.” I put my hand on the gear-shifter so he’d get the message.
Adrian nodded, taking a step back. “Fine. See you at Mom’s party tomorrow.”
Shit. I’d almost forgotten our mom’s birthday was the next day, which meant the Rutherfords would be once again crowding into the corner booth of the local Mexican restaurant to cause a ruckus. She loved being the center of attention, and the rest of us indulged in her theatrics.
I told Adrian goodbye, backed out of the driveway, and said a silent prayer for a decent night of tips so I could get my mom a present that didn’t scream: I’m poor.
I shook my head at myself in the rearview mirror, biting back a smile. Just a poor girl with a couple hundred dollars worth of lingerie riding shotgun.