Reagan's eyebrows shoot up. "Jesus, Reese."
"No, seriously. What exactly were you protecting me from? Having a relationship with someone who actually gives a shit about me? Who would walk through fire for me?" My hands are shaking now.
"It wasn't that simple." Reagan rubs her temples. "You were vulnerable. New to college. Still dealing with Dad's death?—"
"Don't you dare bring him into this," I snap. "That man was a fucking monster, and you know it."
Reagan doesn't flinch. She knows exactly what our father was. "That's my point. You'd already been through enough trauma. The last thing you needed was to get tangled up with Ramsey Blackwood."
"Why? Because he's fucked up too?" I challenge. "Newsflash, Reagan—we're all fucked up. You, me, Penn, Ramsey. We're all carrying our own damage."
"There's damaged, and then there's the Blackwoods," she says quietly.
I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "The Blackwoods? You act like I don't remember Ramsey beating that guy with the tire iron, or that I haven't heard whispers about what Penn's done." I lean forward, holding Reagan's gaze. "The Blackwoods are my family. You made it that way, but even if you hadn't…I'd still choose them."
Chapter 20
Reese
I'm literally vibrating as I race down the stairs, my combat boots barely touching each step. Holy fucking shit. Chaos Theory. PIT TICKETS. I can't believe Ramsey actually did this.
"Don't fall and break your neck before we even get there," Ramsey calls out, his voice deep and amused.
I skid to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, my hair flying around my face. That's when I see him, leaning against the wall in the entryway looking like sex on legs. Black jeans that hug every inch of his thighs, those black Timbs I always tease him about, and a dark gray t-shirt that's stretched across his chest like it's hanging on for dear life. His biceps are practically bursting through the sleeves, and I have to force myself not to stare.
"Holy shit, Rams!" I squeal, bouncing on my toes. "I still can't believe you got tickets! And pit tickets!"
His eyes drag over me, lingering on the sliced-up sides of myshirt where skin peeks through, then down to my fishnets. Something dark flashes in those blue eyes.
"I know how much you love this band, and I figured if you're going to be in the pit, I'd better be there to make sure some asshole doesn't crush you."
I launch myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck. His hands instinctively go to my waist, and I feel his fingers brush against the bare skin exposed by my DIY shirt alterations.
"You're the fucking best," I say into his neck, breathing in that scent that's so distinctly Ramsey.
His hands tighten on my waist for a second before he sets me back. "Yeah, well, don't make me regret it." His voice sounds strained. "If it gets too rough in there?—"
"I know, I know. We bail," I finish for him, rolling my eyes. "But it won't. It's gonna be amazing."
"Your definition of amazing and mine are clearly different," he mutters, but there's a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
I spin around, showing off my concert outfit. "What do you think? Reagan would kill me if she saw what I did to this shirt she gave me."
Ramsey's jaw tightens, and his eyes darken as they track over my exposed skin again.
"It's..." he clears his throat. "You look fucking good, Reese."
The way he says my name makes heat pool in my belly.
"You don't look so bad yourself," I say, trying to lighten the moment. "Though I think your shirt might be a size too small."
"It's not," he mutters, grabbing his keys from the counter. "Let's go before I change my mind about the pit."
The drive to the venue is full of bass and screamed lyrics as we blast Chaos Theory through Ramsey's ridiculous sound system. His truck eats up the miles, and I can't stop fidgeting in my seat, the anticipation making me practically levitate.
"Fuck, I can't believe this is happening," I say for probably the twentieth time as we pull into the parking lot. The venue looms ahead, already swarming with fans.
Ramsey puts the truck in park, his lips twitching with amusement. "You've said that about fifty times now."
