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It was all a game.
And I lost.
18
REESE
Oak’s fist ricochets off my cheek, and pain explodes inside my skull, making my head ring. But it’s nothing compared to the agony ripping through my chest from what he accused me of doing when he first dragged me out of the car.
We knew we were walking back into a shitstorm. I knew he was still going to be angry and that the time we’ve been away will have done little to calm his need to hurt me. But I never could have imagined this.
Those photos. The videos. They were for me, to fuel my sick need for the girl I shouldn’t have been thinking about, let alone craving and jerking off over every chance I got.
I might have taunted her by threatening to share them, but I never had any intention of doing so.
Those moments between us… They were just that. Between us. And like a fucking lovesick puppy, I treasured those stolen moments with her, especially when she was sleeping and I was able to pretend that she didn’t hate me, that we had no chance of being together. In those few minutes, I was able to pretend. Just like I did this weekend.
Talk about coming back down to earth with a fucking bump.
“You’re fucking done here, you lying piece of shit.”
His fist meets my jaw this time, and I swear something fucking snaps.
“Boys, that’s enough,” a loud voice booms as heavy footsteps crunch in the gravel.
But if Oak hears his dad, then he doesn’t let it stop him. If anything, he only gets a whole new wave of energy as he goes at me like a man possessed.
His final blow to my gut sends me crashing to the floor.
“Oakley, I said enough.”
I spit a wad of blood out on the Beckworths’ driveway and blink back the tears of pain in my eyes before looking up.
Christian is holding Oakley back as he stares down at me like a wild beast. Pure hatred fills his eyes, his teeth are bared, and his chest heaves. His fists are still clenched, covered in a mixture of both our blood. Nothing but death and the need for pain oozes from him.
In this moment, he’s not my best friend. The boy I relied on for everything almost all of my life. He’s nothing but a bitter, hate-filled monster.
And despite not doing the things he’s claimed I’ve done, I know that I deserve it.
I might not have released those intimate images of Liv. But I’ve still done enough awful things to her to deserve this.
“Let him go, Christian. Let him have his fill. I won’t fight back.”
“You fucking piece of shit. I wanted you dead when I figured out you touched her. But this… you’re fucking dead to me, Reese. Dead.”
“Oakley,” Christian barks. “Get in the house. Now!”
“You know what he did. Why are you stopping this?”
“Just do as you’re told, Son. Get in the bloody house and clean yourself up.”
The tension between us crackles, Oak’s eyes promising me a whole world of more pain than I’m in right now the next time he sees me.
“Fine,” he finally huffs, shrugging his father’s hands from his upper arms.
I suck in a breath when he steps forward, but the pain never comes. Instead, he spits at me as if I’m nothing more than a piece of fucking rubbish.
“I’ll never fucking forgive you for this, Whitfield.”
