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“Just tell me one thing…” It’s a constant battle to swallow down the rising nausea.
“Anything.” His eyes widen, pleading with mine as he inches closer. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”
“Was Andrew involved in this? Did he know what you were up to?”
“No.” He shakes his head before shifting his stance. “Do you really believe I’m capable of something so malicious?”
Hot tears sting my eyes. “After everything I’ve just learned? Yeah, I do.”
“If you would just—”
“No,” I snap. The rage burning brightly inside me is the only thing that keeps the pain at bay. “I don’t want to hear any more lies. And you know what? I wouldn’t believe them anyway.”
A mixture of guilt and grief settles over his expression. “Fine, I’ll leave.” His gaze flickers to mine. “Just know that it was never my intention to hurt you.”
As much as I want to believe him, there’s no way to do that.
“Get out.”
Instead of continuing to argue, he jerks his head into a nod. I keep my eyes averted as he scoops up his clothing and makes quick work of yanking on his boxers, joggers, and T-shirt, along with a sweatshirt before shoving his feet into his shoes. After he’s dressed, his movements stall, and even though my attention is carefully averted, I feel the heat of his gaze resettle on me.
The floorboards creak beneath his weight, and I stiffen when his fingers wrap around my shoulders before I’m dragged to him and crushed against the hard ridges of his chest.
The warmth of his breath ghosts over the outer shell of my ear. “Even when I was pretending to be Chris, everything we shared was real. They were my thoughts and feelings. I wanted you to know me. The person buried deep down inside. The one I don’t share with many people.”
I screw my eyelids tightly closed in an attempt to battle back all the rioting emotions fighting to break free. “I wish I could believe that.”
“So do I.”
He presses a kiss against the side of my face before squeezing me one last time.
And then he’s gone.
Walking out of my room and life forever.
37
CROSBY
With my backpack hoisted over one shoulder, I stalk across campus. There must be a look on my face, because the people walking toward me scramble out of my way. Even though it’s been a few days, the fallout with Brooke still feels painfully fresh.
No matter how hard I suspected she’d take the truth, it was a thousand times worse.
After I tried texting and calling a few times, she blocked my number. I should have expected it. That’s exactly what she did to Andrew. Once she’d decided she was done with him, she was done. There’s something about her determination to move on from a crap situation I can’t help but respect.
At the same time, I wish she’d give me a chance to explain. Not that it would necessarily change anything, but still…
Maybe I didn’t set out with the intention to mislead or trick her, but in the end, that’s exactly what happened. I should have been upfront from the beginning and not allowed the situation to spiral so far out of control.
Except, I knew how she’d react, and that the friendship we’d been building would come crashing down around our heads.
And that’s exactly what happened.
I’m so lost in the tangle of my thoughts that I don’t immediately hear my name being shouted above the babble of voices. It takes a moment for me to shift mental gears before swinging around and searching the crowd. That’s when I see Ryder McAdams barreling straight through a sea of students. A few innocent bystanders get shoved to the side. By the grim set of his lips, I can already tell this won’t be a pleasant conversation.
Perfect.
This is exactly what I need.
“Hey, asswipe,” he bellows when our gazes lock. “Stop running away.”
I lift my hands and glare. “Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”
If he’s looking for a fight, he came to the right place.
Just like Brooke blocking my number, I should have expected Ryder to seek me out. He might not be her brother, but they’re family, and he’s always been protective. Shit got a little physical with Andrew after their breakup.
Rage vibrates off him in thick, suffocating waves as he eats up the distance between us with long-legged strides. I straighten and brace for the oncoming attack. As soon as he’s within striking distance, he plows his hands into my chest, knocking me back a few steps.
Before I can find my footing and right myself, he steps further into my personal space, knocking me harder this time. When I keep my arms at my sides, not bothering to defend myself, anger sparks in his eyes as a low growl emanates from deep in his chest.
He takes a swing, and a second later, his fist connects with my eye. A starburst of color and pain explodes around my socket as my vision goes blurry. I hiss out a breath and straighten, ready for more.
