His concern angered me, and I then couldn’t look at him anymore. I shifted my gaze over his shoulder. “What do you want, Brax?” My voice didn’t quiver. Didn’t reveal tears. It was as even and impassive as I could muster. I also noticed his bruises, his blackened eye. I’d almost forgotten about it. So many emotions had flooded me that day. Just as they were now.

Anger flashed over his face, hardening his jaw, the lines between his brow. “Did someone do this to you?”

“No. A horse.” I turned away, opening my truck door.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.” His voice eased, apparently relieved.

Forcing my strength, I looked at him. Just seeing his unusual face, and all the memories it brought back, crushed me, and I sucked in a breath as though I’d been slammed in the gut. I prayed he couldn’t see the raw pain that scratched and clawed its way to the surface. My lips went numb, I wanted to scream and yell and ask him why. Why did you go through two months of slowly dragging me out of my carefully constructed shell, only to stomp on my heart? Was it seriously just for a good old-fashioned college fuck? But I didn’t. I somehow held it together. I leveled my gaze to his for a painful fraction longer. A feat in itself. And I said the only thing I could say. “I’m no longer a concern of yours.” With that I shut the door, and surprisingly, he stepped back. Didn’t beat on my door, swear or demand me to hear him out. He actually allowed it. Without another glance, I started my engine, put the truck in drive and left Brax Jenkins standing in the parking lot.

22. Brax

I stood there and watched her take off through the parking lot. Watched ’til her truck disappeared from sight. I scrubbed the back of my head. And just stared. Had I really expected any other reaction from her? I guess I’d hoped for … what? Forgiveness? The pain in her eyes felt like a goddamn kick in the gut, and it was so real I almost had to look away. I’d put it there, that hurt in her beautiful eyes. She’d trusted me. Laid her goddamn soul wide open and bare to me, just as she had her body, and I’d taken both. Swear to God, I couldn’t fuckin’ help myself. If only I’d known what I’d later that morning found out. If only what’d happened … had happened sooner. Before we’d had that night together. Would I have done anything different? Would I have been able to refuse her? No. Why? Because I’m a selfish prick. End of f**king story.

I started running, heading to the batting cages to meet Cory, and my mind filled with her image. It filled with everything Gracie. The way her eyes were wide, soft, and shaped so that they tipped up a little in the outer corners. Full lips that I’d—Jesus Christ, I could’ve kissed them for hours. Hair that fascinated me when worn in her usual braid; sucked the life out of me when I’d unraveled it, let it hang long over her bare back, shoulders. I shook my head, trying to fling those images out. They wouldn’t budge. I guess it’d be my punishment. It’s what I fuckin’ deserved.

I’d planned to stay away from her—Christ, I didn’t want to hurt her any more than I already had. But when Cory’d texted me asking about her banged-up face, I had no choice. I had to see for myself, see why her face was banged up. I’m not your concern anymore. Damn. She might as well have shoved a knife in my heart. Those words had stung. Hurt like hell. Bad thing was Gracie’d never know how much they’d hurt me. It had hurt like hell to say the things I’d said to her before, seeing her face twist in pain and confusion. They’d all been lies. Unavoidable lies. And she’d never know how deeply she touched me. No one in my life had made me feel that way. Only her. And I’d lost her.

She’d never, ever know that I f**king loved her.

It wasn’t even possible. Kelsy Evans’ father had made that crystal f**king clear.

A horn blasted behind me, and when I turned Cory passed by, his hand stuck out the open window of his car. He knew. Knew some of the f**ked up situation. Most of it, anyway. I’d had no choice but to leave some of it out, for Cory’s sake. Gracie had been right about one thing. Evans’ prick father was one twisted fuck. The less Cory knew about what had gone down, the less shit would fall on him. Or the Beaumont’s. Jesus Christ, I couldn’t let Gracie’s family suffer because of me. Bad enough the goddamn Kappa dare still existed. I was responsible for it, too. I regretted the hell out of that one. I hadn’t known Gracie when I took that challenge. But this thing with Evans? That was a whole different set of balls. Cory knew how I truly felt about Gracie. That much I’d confessed to him. And I’d sworn him to f**king secrecy. Cory Maxwell wouldn’t say a word.

I couldn’t afford him to.

I yanked my beanie down further over my forehead and picked up the pace. I liked how the jolt of my feet against the pavement sent a shockwave through the muscles in my legs, made my lungs burn, and I ran faster still. Rounding the corner I hit the sidewalk and straightaway toward the sports complex. People passed by, recognized me, blew their horns. Yelled out the windows. I ignored them all. None of them really knew me. Only liked the thought of me, what they believed me to be.

When I reached the cages, Cory was parked, leaning against the door of his Camaro.

“Bout time you got here, douchebag.” He shouldered his pack. “You see her?”

I bent at the waist, hands resting on my knees, catching my breath. “Yeah. Said a horse threw her.”

“Is that it?” He started toward the entry, and I followed.

“No. She told me she wasn’t mine to be concerned about anymore.”

“Man, you should just tell her.” Cory stopped at the door. “Stop fuckin’ around and just tell her. We’ll figure things—ugh, Christ!”

Cory grunted as I grabbed him by the shirt, slung him away from the door and shoved him against the brick wall. I pushed my face close to his. “You know I fuckin’ can’t. That means you can’t either.” I shoved him again, hard, and stormed through the doors.

The minute I hit the entryway, old Henry looked up. He didn’t move; barely changed facial expressions. But he knew I was pissed.

“Take it easy on my cages, boy,” he said as I passed by. “You got hellfire in those crazy eyes of yours today.”

I said nothing as I pushed out into the walkway, stepped into a booth, and grabbed a bat. Slinging my beanie off, I yanked a helmet over my head and slammed my fist against the start button on the wall. Squared up to the plate. Waited for the pitch. It came, firing out of the pitching machine at ninety-eight mph, and I swung the hell out of the bat. The familiar slam with the baseball sent vibrations shooting up my arm. I crouched, swung, hit. Over and over, I didn’t miss a pitch. Just kept swinging as hard as I could.

“We need that arm you’re rippin’ on,” Cory said behind me. “Take it easy, man. You pitch tomorrow.”

Anger fueled my swings. I could care fuckin’ less about that damn game. Again. Again. The harder I hit, the better I felt, and I swung until the machine quit pitching and I ran out of breath. I dropped the bat and flung off my helmet, squatted and held my head in my hands. Cory stayed behind me, silent. Finally, I rose and stared out across the pitching bay. “This is more than some dumbass college dare, Cory.” I wiped my forehead against my shoulder and looked at probably the only real friend I had. “More than her tires being snaked, and more than some goddamn insulting graffiti. It could f**k up her life, man.” I shook my head, spit, looked at him again. “I can’t let it go.”

Cory looked at me, then away, then back at me. “Son, you’ve got to make a choice. Either talk to the girl and tell her everything—which would be they way I’d go. A girl like that doesn’t come around often.” He rubbed his jaw then shrugged. “Or let it the f**k go.”

I stared off, beyond the pitching bay. I hadn’t known the full depth of what’d happened to Gracie before that night. What that prick f**k Evans had done to her, and the shit senior year that’d followed. And when I left Gracie that morning, I hadn’t truly known what a psychotic bastard Evans’ father was, either. But I damn sure found out.

Thinking about it now smoked a hole in me so deep I felt like I was going to f**king explode. But I was crammed in a corner where Gracie would suffer more if I pushed the issue. If I tried to change things. Jesus fuck, how did this all get so goddamned turned around? Dammit to hell.

I looked at Cory, bent down, grabbed my beanie, and pulled it on my head. “Guess I’ll just let it the f**k go.”

23. Green-Eyed Monster

October dragged by. Humanities class was a test of endurance since Kelsy sat in front of me, and Brax off to the side in the back. I was acutely aware of Brax, though, and my concentration during lecture just pure out sucked. Thank God it was the only class I had with either. Blessedly, both had left me alone. Some twisted, in love part of me, though, wished every day Brax would just pop up out of nowhere, have a reasonable and forgivable explanation for what he did, and we could resume our relationship. I missed him. Really and truly missed him. I couldn’t help it.

He’d changed, too. At least, from what I’d noticed. Before he’d been rowdy, full of life, endearingly rude. If that made sense. Now, even several rows over and forward, I could sense his anger. He was like a big pot of molten metal, ready to boil over at any given moment. It’d only take a toe to push it over. A slight shove. And I had no idea why.

One thing I did know, however. Every night I worked, a single headlamp followed me to my dorm. It stayed far back, in the shadows, until I’d made it to Oliver Hall’s entrance and slid my key card. By the time the door closed behind me, the headlamp was gone. I knew it was Brax, and it just added to my puzzlement. No phone calls, no texts. I tried not to dwell on it, but it was hard. Damn hard. Hardest thing I’d ever attempted to do.

The week before Halloween I was sitting in the library, studying. I had texts opened and scattered all around me on the table only I occupied. Then, something dropped onto my book.

“Tell me that’s not utter perfection.”

Tessa’s voice startled me, and I picked up the small plastic card she’d dropped. I turned it over in my hand then scowled at my roommate, who’d plopped into the chair next to me. “Tessa, that’s a fake ID.”

Her full lips, covered in shiny lipgloss, pulled taut over her white teeth. “Wow. You do have a lot of gray matter up there.” She pointed at my head. “Of course it’s a fake ID, doofus. How else can you get into MacElvee’s? Lord, girl,” she snapped her fingers. “Get with the program.”

I stared at the ID, then squinched my brows together. “Tessa, it says I was born in nineteen eighty-nine.”

She rifled through some of my opened books. “So? Mine says eighty-eight.” She smiled broadly and tapped the end of my nose like a child. “They never check. Besides, you’re going out with us tonight.” She laid her head on my shoulder. “Please? I’m tired of you sulking around, staying clammed up in the dorm room, and here in this stuffy old library. Or at the nerdservatory.” She looked at me and batted her long lashes. “You gotta get out, chica. Put that douchebag behind you. Live.” I started to protest, but she pressed her fingers against my lips. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. Not one more lame excuse.” Her perfectly arched brows drew into a fake frown. “You promised a long time ago, Beaumont. You don’t work tonight, and you’ve been studying all afternoon. Seriously. I know you’re a geek, but you’re a pretty cool geek whom I’ve grown to kinda love. Time to pay up. We’re going and that’s that. You need a beer.”

My lips pulled into a smile I couldn’t stop. “I do not need a beer. But okay. I’ll go.”

Tessa squeaked, then hastily covered her loud mouth with her hand. “Yay! We’ll leave at eight. And I’m dressing you.” She leaned over, kissed my cheek, and waved. “Later, babe.”

“Wait, Tessa, no,” I said. But she threw a grin over her shoulder and kept on walking.

By the time I got back to the dorm it was nearly six p.m. Tessa was there. Waiting on me. Like a predator. I scanned the room quickly, and sure enough, she had one of her own outfits spread out on the bed.

“Okay, before you say anything, just hear me out,” she began, and she met me at the door, pulled my pack off my shoulder and tugged me to her bed. “Seriously. You’re adorable. I mean that in a,” she glanced to the ceiling, thinking, “holistic, wholesome, Mary Poppins kind of way.” She tweaked my nose. “You and your E.T. shirt are just so darn…cute. But I’m gonna bling you up a bit, chica. Nothing drastic, I swear.”

I searched through the objects of clothing on her bed. “You want me to wear this little gauzy thing?” I asked. “Tessa, I have banged up legs. They’re not pretty and smooth enough for this.” I eyed the other pieces: a white tank top, and a nearly see-through shirt with a laced-up back. The skirt was tissue-paper thin, short and floral. Pretty, but on me?

“You’re ridiculous. Put this on. Your legs are fine.”

“I’m wearing my boots.”

Tessa grinned, and it made me feel she was up to no good. “That’s the idea, my darlin’. Now get ready. I still have your face and hair to work on.”

“Good Lord. Please don’t slut me up.”

“I’m not going to slut you up, weirdo. Just let me have my way. For once?”

It didn’t take long to trade out my jeans and button-down shirt for Tessa’s outfit. I looked in the mirror. The upper half wasn’t too bad. But the skirt. “Tessa, this thing is short!”