“I’m fine,” I repeat, though this time my voice is quieter, almost swallowed by the room’s warmth.
John gives me a long look, eyes scanning me from head to toe as if making sure every inch of me survived unscathed. Then he grunts, the closest thing he has to approval. “Good.”
Sutton huffs, muttering under her breath, but I catch the tail end: “…reckless boys…”
John grunts again, more to himself than anyone else, before finally sitting down. The rest of the meal goes on with quiet conversation, punctuated by occasional looks toward me from both Sutton and Lee.
By the time I push back my chair, the unease from earlier has faded slightly, replaced with the weight of their attention, a mixture of protective care I’m not used to. It’s strange… and almost comforting. Something I’m not sure I want to get used to.
If there is one thing I’ve learned—whenever life gives you lemons—they soon begin to rot.
19
Why didI agree to come again?
If the last party was considered more family friendly, I don’t even want to know what this party is rated as. Two girls are currently making out on one of the pool loungers while a group of guys watching them, cheering them on. More than half the girls are topless, and I’m shocked to see more than a few couples having outright sex for everyone to see.
Lee and Jackson are a little more than engrossed in all the sexuality going on around us. It doesn’t bother me. One is my brother, and the other is nowhere on the list of men I’m interested in. It doesn’t take long before I’m left to my own devices while they explore their—options. Since I’m not into watching live porn, I slip into the pool house. It’s quiet and peaceful away from the laughter and noise.
Curious, I begin to explore. The pool house is nearly half the size of the actual mansion Jackson lives in. It’s expansive and as opulent as the main house. A noise in the back, toward the kitchen, catches my attention. I walk toward it, and I realize what it is I’m hearing. Low, heavy groans. My gaze catches on the sofa, eyes widening when I see Colter. He’s sunk into thecushions, legs spread, head tilted back over the top of the sofa, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.
A girl I recognize as one of Laura’s Barbie friends is naked, on her knees between his thighs, lapping at his dick like it’s her personal party favor. The look of pleasure on his face causes my stomach to plummet. His fist is wrapped up in her blonde locks as he controls the pace of her blow job, his hips lifting to thrust into her mouth.
“That’s it. Suck it like a good little bitch,” he growls. “Fuck.”
Something inside of me shatters a bit. All his blustering about me being his—it was a lie.
No, it wasn’t a lie. It was something I made up in my head. He never said I was his. He said I was hisresponsibility. The intimacy the other day was something I imagined. A fairytale I let take over.
“Swallow it all,” he orders her.
I stagger back a step, but my shoulder bumps against the doorframe, loud enough to draw his attention. His eyes snap open, hazy from pleasure, and then lock on me.
For a fraction of a second, the look in them changes—dark, searing, like he’s furious I’m here. Or furious I caught him. Or maybe furious at himself. But then it’s gone, shuttered, as cold as the hard line of his jaw.
The girl doesn’t notice me. She’s too busy choking on him, hands braced against his thighs. His fist tightens in her hair, but his gaze stays pinned to mine.
Heat rushes up my throat, choking me worse than any hand ever could. My chest seizes, like my ribs are too tight for my lungs. I should leave. I should slam the door, pretend I never saw this. Pretend I don’t care.
But I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can only watch him watching me while another girl makes him come apart right in front of me.
His lips part, the smallest twitch of something there—regret? Warning? Ownership? I don’t know. I don’t want to know.
I finally find my legs. My voice is gone, my pride shredded, so I do the only thing I can.
I run.
Out the pool house door, across the patio, past the laughter and shrieks and drunken music that now feel like nails dragging across my skin. My vision blurs with the sting in my eyes, but I don’t stop until I’m past the crowd, past the mansion lights, into the dark where no one can see me breaking.
There must be a better way to get back to Broken Ridge while on foot. Taking the road while wearing flip-flops sucks and despite the sun having sunk behind the hills over an hour ago the cement is too hot to go barefoot. I hope Lee gets my text soon. It still onread. I know it might be a while before he sees it since I saw him heading into the house with a leggy brunette before I wandered away. Going back outside to the party was not an option. Pretending everything is okay when it isn’t also not an option.
Lucky for me, it isn’t pitch-black outside. There is enough moon to cast enough light to keep the road from drowning in darkness. Still, the sounds—the rustle of brush, the quick skitter of unseen paws, the low cries of night creatures I can’t name—make my skin prickle. City streets at midnight never rattled me like this. There were always streetlights. Witnesses.
I force my mind elsewhere, chasing distractions. John said he was going to have me attending the local college. I wonder when I can start. He hasn’t given me an application to fill out or asked me about what I want to major in. Nothing.
I’m still thinking about it when headlights slice through the night. I squint, hand lifting to block the glare as I step off the pavement, gravel crunching under my flip-flops.
The vehicle slows, the rumble dropping to a crawl, and my pulse spikes. I don’t have a weapon to defend myself.
