Page 31

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

CORTLAND

I bite back a smile, glancing up at the graveyard across from me even as I read the text on my screen.

Fuck yourself, Mom.

Linda

You seen her again?

Nope.

I pocket my phone and walk through the treeline. It’s been almost a week since I’ve talked to Remi, and she hasn’t responded to my texts either, but now I know her schedule, her routine.

I think about the newest cut on her arm I saw last week after therapy. Someone has to take care of you, Remi, because you suck at taking care of yourself.

It doesn’t take but a second to spot her.

There’s one streetlamp out here, and the light is dull, but since she’s the only person here, it’s enough.

Her orange hair is piled in a messy bun, her knees to her chest, back to me.

Just like last time. Almost as if she’s waiting for me.

She’s sitting on a bench that faces out toward the cemetery, silent, a book at her side.

As my sneakers sink into the soft grass across from the paved path that circles the graveyard, I think about turning back.

Disappearing into the trees and leaving her alone, or watching over her, unseen.

I flex my jaw, closing my eyes a second, facing a hard truth.

I can’t stay away from her.

I want to dig my nails into my skin again with the thought. She’s bad for me, just like that pain is. Because being near her, seeing her fear, the way she fights against wanting me, I have to face other hard truths too.

That maybe that night didn’t go how I thought it went.

Besides that, right now, she looks like prey. I told you wolves have teeth, Remi. And I’m actually not the worst one.

I say nothing at all as I walk around the bench, coming to stand right in front of her.

She sits up straighter, her golden eyes staring up at me.

Her phone is in one hand, a black backpack beside her on the bench, the book splayed open next to it.

For a moment, we just look at each other.

“Why am I always finding you alone in stupid positions?”

She extends her legs, her white shoes on the ground, phone clenched tight in her hand as she grabs for her book. She shoves it into her backpack but not before I see there’s blood on the cover art. She starts to stand, but I step closer, push her back down, my hand on her chest.

She glares up at me, her lips pressed together. I can feel her pulse flying beneath my palm.

I smell marijuana as I lean down close to her. “Do you just enjoy me stalking you?”

The new fire flashes in her eyes. “Is that a confession?”

I laugh, pressing her further against the bench. “No.”

I feel her chest heave beneath my hand. “I want you to leave me alone, Cortland,” she says fiercely, even though her voice is hoarse.

“I don’t know why you’re here, and I don’t care, but I want you to leave me alone.

I promise I won’t cause a scene and I won’t try to…

” She swallows down emotions, her voice breaking.

“I won’t try to do anything, okay, Cortland, just please…

” She closes her eyes, and my chest tightens, seeing her like this, pleading with me, some of that fire going out.

“Whatever you think we’re doing, we can’t do it anymore. ”

For a minute, there’s just the sound of the traffic past the barrier of trees surrounding this place. She doesn’t make another sound, and neither do I.

But then I step closer, and her eyes fly open.

I drop to my knees, place my hands on her jeans. They actually fit, even though she’s still wearing that baggy hoodie. Like she’s drowning in clothes, trying to hide.

I feel her tense beneath my palms, and she rears back, still clenching her phone and her backpack by the top strap.

“You smoking out here by yourself with your ghost friend?” I ask her softly.

I think about when I first saw her outside of the student service’s building and realized… she goes to therapy, too. And it still isn’t enough. It still isn’t helping.

Just like it doesn’t help me.

My fingers flex against her thighs and her breath leaves her in a rush. “You want to forget about me?”

She bites her lip, her eyes on my hand.

“You all fucked up, baby?”

She says nothing.

“Answer me.”

She doesn’t say or do anything.

Until she does.

She snaps her head up, drops her phone through a crack in the slates of the bench, her arms shooting out, colliding with my shoulders, shoving me away from her.

She stands to sidestep me, but I get to my feet, too, and grab her wrist. She claws at my arm, trying to get me off of her, and her nails line up against the wounds from my own. I wince, letting her go from the surprise of the pain. She turns, like she’s going to run.

“Stop, Remi,” I tell her softly, rubbing my hand up my arm.

Her shoulders heave as she faces away from me, into the darkness of the graveyard.

“Where you gonna go, huh?” I step closer, a foot away, dropping my hands by my side. “How long are you gonna run from me? From this?”

She stiffens, her own hands clenched into fists, her golden eyes glimmering with anger as she spins to face me.

“Forever,” she answers, her voice low. “I want nothing to do with you. Don’t you get that?

” She closes the space between us, brave all over again.

She slaps her hand against my chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I was here, alone. I wanted to be alone.” She hits me again, and that anger grows under my skin. “Haven’t you done enough to me?”

“When did it become rape, do you know?” I counter, arching a brow as I step closer, staring down at her. “In your head, what moment was it? Because in my truck, you were in my lap, and you sure as fuck seemed to like what I was doing?—”

She slaps me. In the face.

Hard.

It triggers something in my brain, and I’m imagining my mom with Tristan, and his glasses, his hand over his face, his freckles livid, his eyes filled with tears.

I react on instinct, my palms out, knocking her to the ground as I fall on top of her, cradling her head. Her breath leaves her in a rush, and for a moment, we’re both frozen as my body covers hers, and I shift my palms to either side of her head.

Then she’s thrashing beneath me, hitting my chest, twisting her face, trying to push me off.

I grab her wrists in one hand, pin them over her head so her body is elongated beneath me, my other hand on her face, keeping her still.

“Shh, shh, shh,” I tell her as she cries out underneath me, her eyes screwed up tight, that tongue ring flashing as she tells me to fuck off. “Stop fighting, baby. Stop fighting me.” I whisper the words, pressing my brow to hers, my fingers splayed on her face.

She stills, holding her breath, chest heaving beneath me, but she doesn’t open her eyes.

Her body is trembling, and tears track silently down her pretty face.

I inhale her coconut scent, my fingers still pinning her wrists to the ground, her chest brushing mine with every breath she takes.

She’s always smelled like a beach, which is a little funny, because that’s the last place I’d ever expect to see Remi Ocean, despite her last name.

She was more suited to a cabin. A tent. Secluded away in the woods.

She came alive when we went to the park those times.

Just a handful, but it was enough to see her spark.

I always thought she’d love where I grew up, in West Virginia.

Now, it’s like her spark went out. Like she’s disappeared into herself. Trying to hide.

Because of me.

“It’s okay, Remi,” I whisper, knowing it isn’t as my mouth brushes hers. “It’s okay, baby.”

She makes a whimpering sound, every muscle in her body that I can feel pressed against me coiled with tension. Pain. Anger.

I kiss the top of her head, the little hairs that came free from her bun tickling my face.

Those tears flow freer, and I kiss one. Another.

She shakes harder beneath me. I run my tongue down her jaw, taste the salt of her heartbreak.

“You ruined my life,” she whispers, her eyes still closed. She tries to lift her arms, tries to free herself, but I don’t let her go.

Her eyes fly open, liquid gold staring right at me. “You ruined my fucking life, Cortland.” I can feel her breath on my skin. Her words are harsh, but her voice is so fucking small.

Still, her words make me bristle. “Did I?” My fingers tighten on her wrists as I stare down at her. “Because I’m pretty sure you ruined mine, too.”

She keeps glaring at me, those tears still falling, but she doesn’t look sad. She just looks pissed.

Then she leans up, and before I know what she’s doing, she spits in my face.

For a second, as she lays her head back down, I can only stare at her. I feel the warmth of her spit on my cheek, sliding down toward my chin.

I see something like a satisfied smirk on her face. Yeah, I probably deserved that.

My fingers still around her wrists, I push my hips against her, my dick growing hard as I feel her saliva on my skin. “That wasn’t such a good idea, baby.”

She’s still glaring at me, but I see her swallow. She’s nervous.

I smile at the realization, leaning down closer. “Tell me you’re sorry, Remi.”

“Fuck you, Cortland.”

I tilt my pelvis further against her, nudge her head to the side with my nose, my teeth against her neck. “What was that?”

“I said, fuck. You.” Her breath caresses my ear, causing the hairs on my neck to stand on end. My cock to grow harder, aching from being so close to her.

“You wanna fuck me?” I ask her, running my open mouth over that spot just below her ear.

I feel her stiffen under me, silent now.

Keeping my hand around her wrists, I reach my other down between us, to the top of her jeans.

She’s perfectly still.

“Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fuck you?” I pull her lobe between my teeth and she shivers underneath me but doesn’t say a word.