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“You do not worry about him. Got that? I will deal with him, and if push comes to shove, so will your mother. I know my sister. She loves you more than she’s scared of him. It might be taking her a while to get there, but I have no doubt she’ll get there.”
“Yeah.” I grunted, turning away again.
“Stretch, wash up, go home. Wrap ice packs on your shoulder tonight. You got homework to do, and get ten hours of sleep. I mean it, okay?” He reached out, grasping my shoulder. “Ten hours. I want a two-mile run before school tomorrow.”
“Two?”
“Five. Do five instead. And grab a smoothie on the way out.”
Putting on my headphones, I spent thirty minutes unwinding my muscles enough to where it was safe to shower and drive home. Miles was watching me as I left, my bag over my shoulders. I gave him a quick nod before grabbing a smoothie from the counter and ducking out the door.
My phone buzzed on the way, and it was like they’d planned it together.
Mom: I’ve not heard much from you lately. How are you?
I got into my truck before I texted back.
Me: I’m fine. Training. School. Staying out of trouble.
Mom: I talked to your uncle. He said you might have a girlfriend?
Me: No girlfriend.
Mom: You sure?
Me: Yes. What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?
Mom: I’m dating someone.
Me: Did she move in yet?
Mom: It’s not like that.
Me: You get attached right away.
Mom: I didn’t text so we could start fighting.
Me: Then why’d you text? All we do is fight.
Mom: I’ll give you a call later in the week. Love you.
I sighed. She’d call, hoping we wouldn’t fight then, but we would because we always did. That was just how it was between us right now.
Me: I’m doing fine, if that’s why you were texting. No girlfriend. It’s just sex. You don’t have to worry.
Mom: Okay. Love you.
Tossing my phone aside, I decided to get some food before going to the house. I texted Ramsay when I got to the grocery store.
Me: Hey.
Williams: Hey. You want to come over?
Me: What time?
Williams: uh, 8:30 maybe?
Me: See you then.
63
RAMSAY
A week later, I felt like I was treading water.
I couldn’t shake it. I didn’t know where this feeling was coming from, but it wouldn’t go away.
The bed shook as Scout got up, reaching for his boxer briefs and pulling them up as he stood, looking around the room. We were at his place, and I was lounging.
It was already ten at night, and I needed to sneak out—not that sneaking was necessary at his house. His uncle knew I existed. Scout had said as much, but we never crossed paths. The guy came home late. Scout said he trained guys at all hours.
This night, though, I just couldn’t make myself move, and I watched as he glanced back. He frowned slightly before going to his desk and booting up his computer. “You okay? You came, I thought?”
I gave him a little grin. “I did. Twice.”
He smirked before turning to his screen again. I watched as he booted up his emails and clicked over to his social media. He read through everything, not responding to anything, and pulled up a Word doc.
Okay. He was going to do homework.
I still lay there, yawning, and my eyelids started getting heavy.
“Hey.” Someone was shaking me.
I jerked awake, but it was dark, and my heart leaped into my throat. Panic seized me. Max. It was Max! I flailed to fight back, not fully able to see.
He cursed, twisting away. “Christ. Stop. It’s me—Scout.”
I shot forward, planning on jumping and going for the door, but his voice got through the terror. He twisted and caught me before I fell off his bed. My legs were still tangled in his blankets. I gulped for air, curling a fist into his shirt.
Scout. I breathed him in. That was him. Not Max.
Scout. Not Max.
But the panic was real. The terror.
I’d been back there.
I curled away from him, still in his arms, and a guttural cry came out of me.
That sound was from an animal in a trap.
“Hey.” His tone was gentler this time, and he moved closer, sitting with me on the bed. “Hey.”
His door shoved open.
I flinched, pressing my forehead into Scout’s chest. He began rubbing his hand up and down my back.
“What’s wrong with her?”
I tensed, not recognizing that voice. But I was in Scout’s house. That was probably his uncle.
Scout spoke over my head. “She fell asleep. I woke her—”
“What’s wrong with her?”
I drew in a breath, shoving aside the last of the fog on my brain. It was time to be strong.
“My guess? PTSD shit,” Scout said. “And before you start, I was doing my homework. She fell asleep. I was waking her up to take her home.”
