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“I know,” I said quietly. “All good points.”
“But wait. That was February. We kept hooking up until mid-March.”
My chest felt like it was being crushed. “Because of those points. We weren’t exclusive, and I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you about it. I also couldn’t bring myself to stop being with you.”
He was remembering things himself, saying, “That’s why you insisted I glove up. It was after Valentine’s Day. You said—”
“I said I was switching my birth control and wanted to be sure. I lied.”
His gaze was so heavy on me. “I never slept with that girl.”
“There were two other girls. Two other parties you thought I wasn’t going to come to and I did, because I needed to see you do it.”
He shook his head, a savage curse falling from him. He raked a brisk hand through hair. “This is fucking bullshit. The first girl, you didn’t stick around very long because she kissed me. I shoved her off of me and chewed her fucking ass out because as far as I was concerned, I had a girl.”
I frowned. “The other two—”
He took an intimidating step toward me, his eyes blazing. “The second girl was the same fucking girl. You didn’t look at her very hard because she tried the same thing again. She tried it with every guy on the team. She’s a groupie. And the third girl? I was wasted, out of my mind blitzed. We just almost won fucking March Madness, and I was celebrating but also commiserating at the same time. I thought that chick was you.”
I—I couldn’t breathe. “What?”
“She looked like you. I thought she was you, and I said your name. She said, ‘Yes?’” He pivoted away, a murderous expression on his face. “I thought she was you, but you’re right. That one I did fuck. I didn’t realize my mistake until the next morning, and then I kicked her to the curb and threatened her that if she didn’t steer clear from me, I’d go to the authorities because that bitch fully knew that I thought she was you. I was talking to you the whole time I was fucking her.”
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t talk. I hadn’t considered any of those possibilities. “Oh, God.” Bitterness laced me. “You were—that girl—” What she did to him. . . “Oh my God, Cris.” Horror filled me and I gasped, my hand covering my mouth.
“I’m fine—”
I yelled, “You’re not fine! That’s assault. That’s fucking assault, and you’re not fine. If that’d been me? If a guy had done that to me?”
“I would’ve murdered him.”
“Exactly,” I clipped out. The need for violence was fast fucking filling me. “What was her name?”
He narrowed his eyes on me. “Why?”
“Her name, Cris. What was her name?”
He began shaking his head. “No. You’re not—”
“WHAT WAS HER FUCKING NAME?”
The door swung open, and Ryan stood there, his own need for violence on his face. “Kellie Rispins.”
I rocked backwards because I knew that name, but for another reason, one that—I stopped thinking and I was only feeling.
Mac moved to see inside, and her eyes went wide at seeing my face.
I began shaking my head. Everything was falling apart in front of me. There were still things to tell Cris. There were things to say to Mac too, but what that bitch did—I needed to hurt her. “Mac,” I said.
She shoved past Ryan, rushing at me, and she enfolded me in her arms.
I clung to her. “Did you know?”
“No.” She held onto me tighter, rocking me from side to side. “No. I had no idea until just now. Everyone could hear you guys.”
My hands balled into fists, pressed behind her back. I lowered my voice so only she could hear me, “I need to hurt her. I need to—”
“I know. Me too, but for a different reason.”
