Out of Love by
“It’s not my job to care.”
I refused to blink until the burning tears retreated. Then I swallowed back the ball of anger and hurt swelling in my throat. “Then what exactly is your job? And how does it involve me at all? Why do you care if someone rapes me?” Words I never imagined coming from my mouth.
“Go home.”
“I’m not going home!” I shoved his chest.
His eyebrows shot up his forehead as he took a step back.
I stepped into him and shoved him again.
“Watch it …” he warned.
“I don’t want to watch it.”
Shove.
“I don’t want to be told what to do!”
Shove.
“I don’t want to be touched unless you’re going to fucking kiss me!”
Shove.
His back hit the fridge. Mint and soap assaulted my senses as the only sound in the room was the hum of the air conditioner and my labored breaths.
My lips parted as my chest violently rose and fell. “Put your hands on me, Wylder,” I whispered.
Pity dripped from his expression.
I didn’t want his pity. I wanted his hands on me. When did my seduction become so desperate?
When Slade Wylder infiltrated my world. That was when.
My gaze slipped to his chest. I couldn’t endure those eyes without him giving me something back.
“Then stop. Stop saving me. Stop watching me. Stop sending Jericho to be with me. Stop existing in my world.” I turned and drifted slowly toward the door. “Buy a girl flowers and reject her. Don’t take the life of the man who threatened her life then expect her to not want you beyond reason.” I opened the door and stared at my feet for several seconds. “It’s not fair.”Chapter ElevenThe next morning, I let the girls go surfing without me with a warning about Elias. I wasn’t in the mood to get out of bed. I wasn’t in the mood to do life at all. After searching up Bella Blackwell and finding out that Slade was right about my fantasy guy, I just … couldn’t.
When a relentless knock at the door brought me out of my pout session, I grumbled a few expletives and dragged my ass downstairs. “What?” I threw open the door, my anger bleeding through every pore.
“Good morning to you too.”
A grin broke through my grumpiness in record time as I threw my arms around my Aunt Jessica—my dad’s twin. “What are you doing here?” I pulled back and gestured for her to step inside.
She slipped off her sneakers and flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “I’m in LA on business this week, and I wanted to see my favorite niece.”
“And my dad wanted you to check in on me.” I shuffled my bare feet to the kitchen in need of caffeine.
“That’s a given, Livy.” She followed me.
“Tea?” I glanced over my shoulder as I filled my electric tea kettle.
“Please.” She perched on a barstool, depositing her purse on the counter. “You look good.”
I laughed, cranking open the window to let in questionably fresh air and the hum of the neighbor’s lawn mower. “My friends say I’m too skinny.”
“You surf twenty-four-seven. Of course, you’re going to burn calories like mad. I did too. Tell your friends to go fuck themselves.”
Aunt Jess was one of my favorite people in the whole world. She was the calm in the storm that was my dad after Mom died.
Grinning, I poured her a cup of hot water and handed her the jar of mixed teas. “Can’t tell them that. I like them too much.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
I leaned into the counter across from her, resting on my forearms while dunking my tea bag up and down in the mug, fresh mint and citrus waking me up. “I wish I had half your strength.”
She lifted her gaze from her tea, eyes narrowed a fraction. “What do you mean?”
Rubbing my lips together, I kept my attention on my tea, hoping to keep my emotions in check. “If I tell you something, can you promise not to tell my dad. Like … ever?”
“Does it involve your dad?”
“No.”
“Then yes. I won’t say anything. Unless … you’re pregnant. Livy, are you pregnant?”
Grunting a tiny laugh, I shook my head. Sex was required to get pregnant. I hadn’t had that in many months. “No. However, I almost had sex shortly after school started. But …” I fished my tea bag out of my mug and set it on a saucer. “It wasn’t going to be consensual.”
There was just no way to ease into an I-was-almost-raped conversation.
“Liv …”
Total lost cause.
The tears flowed freely. I hadn’t given myself permission to grieve the piece of my innocence he took without even raping me. Not with my dad. Not with my friends. Not even with Aubrey’s therapist.
“Livy …” Jessica hopped off her stool and had me in her arms in seconds, her warm embrace a salve to my raw emotions. She didn’t ask me what happened or a million other questions that my confession evoked. She just held me like my mom would have held me.