Page 79

CHAPTER

FIFTY-SEVEN

CORTLAND

Slowing to a jog on the street outside of mine and Storm’s house, I wipe my wrist over my brow, breathing hard, Breaking Benjamin in my ear. For a second, that fire from last night flashes in my head. I got there when the flames were still licking up the side of the building.

My only saving grace was knowing Remi wasn’t there.

But now, hearing her words from last night in my head, I’m not sure she was anywhere better.

I helped her move her things over this morning to her temporary dorm, and thankfully Sloane wasn’t there. I’m not sure Remi’s ready for all that, the three of us meeting again.

Their stuff wasn’t damaged, because they don’t have an end unit.

I can still smell her on me from when she slept over. We talked about her mom, and a little about my own. She fell asleep in my arms, and it felt good.

But tonight, she wanted to meet Van. She didn’t mention Sloane at all, and I asked her about what they discussed in the parking lot, but she didn’t want to talk about it.

She’d driven eight hours yesterday, so I eventually just let her sleep.

God knows she fucking deserves it.

Bringing me to the present, I hear a vehicle behind me. I step off the road, onto the grass as headlights flood the street in front of me, spilling yellow over the darkness.

But the vehicle slows.

I rip out my earbuds, shove them in my pocket and turn my head.

Only to see Chase fucking McGowan in his Dad’s Suburban.

He’s got the window rolled down, his arm over the door and he’s smirking at me, one hand on the wheel. He stops in the middle of the fucking street, and I do, too, turning to face him.

And I see he isn’t alone.

His dad, Greg, is in the seat beside him, staring at me.

And holding a shotgun, angled over his shoulder.

My pulse picks up speed but I’m not sure I’m even scared.

I’m fucking pissed.

My chest is heaving from my run, sweat dripping down my back even in the October chill, and I park my hands on my hips. “Can I help you?” I ask Chase, a smile pulling at his thin lips.

He smacks his hand on the outside of the vehicle, and I feel his dad’s eyes on me.

I’ve met him a handful of times, saw him at every game.

He was always loud and aggressive in the stands, arguing with refs about plays, booing our opponents like high school football was the be-all end-all of his world.

“Yeah,” Chase says, shrugging as he stares down at me. “Just wanted to make sure you were all right, after that fire.”

“I don’t live on campus,” I say through gritted teeth, his words sending adrenaline spiking through my body.

His dad says nothing, just keeps watching me with that goddamn gun in his hand.

“But Remi does, huh?” Chase drops all pretenses of politeness, leaning down close, his hand still on the wheel, one draped out of the SUV now.

There’re a few feet between us, me still on the grass, but it wouldn’t take much for me to reach out and drag his ass through the window.

“Listen, Cort,” he spits on the pavement between us, “you need to let her go.”

I don’t say anything, just keep watching him.

He arches a brow. “It’ll be safer for her that way.”

I nod, like I’m considering his request as I glance down at the dark asphalt, then back up. “What’s got your panties in a bunch, Chase?” I ask him, keeping my tone light. I see his Dad shift in his seat, but he can go fuck himself. “What’s it really matter to you who I’m fucking?”

He pulls his brows together, anger flashing in his freckled face, but it isn’t him who speaks. It’s his dad.

“It matters to me, Cortland, because you’re putting my son’s reputation on the line.” He’s leaned across his son, who is sitting rigid in the driver’s seat, and for the first time, I see something I can relate to in Chase’s face.

Defeat.

He’s letting his dad take over, because this isn’t even his fight. Just like my mom, Greg wants to control him.

“And mine,” he continues, his voice deep and angry, his knuckles blanched over the rifle in his hand. “Because my clients want to know why the hell an innocent boy would fuck around with the girl that accused him of rape.”

“Pardon me, Mr. McGowan, but what the hell does my dick have to do with your clients?”

I watch his face turn a deep shade of red, and he shifts the gun over his shoulder. For a moment, real fear lights through me. But he wouldn’t actually shoot me on a fucking suburban street, right?

I should’ve brought my own gun.

I shouldn’t have left Remi.

I need to call Storm.

“Watch your mouth, Cortland,” he snarls at me, Chase still pressed back against the seat, staring straight ahead, through the windshield.

“Innocent people don’t hang out with their accusers, and they sure as shit don’t have sex with them.

Unless you’re not innocent, and that makes my boy not innocent, you hear me? ”

“If the shoe fucking fits.” I throw up my hands. “Have a good night.” I start walking in the direction of my house, but Chase just drives slowly, following along.

“Just leave her alone, man,” he says, and I hear a note of desperation in his words. “Just leave her alone. I know you feel guilty, but you know we didn’t do what she said, Cort. You know we didn’t.”

I ignore him, my hands still on my hips as I catch my breath from my run, and from this fucking encounter.

“Cort, come on, man, there are plenty of other girls you could?—”

“Don’t finish that fucking sentence,” I tell him without looking as the SUV creeps down the street beside me. I stare straight ahead, my house in view, woods to my left.

“You’re making us all look bad.”

“I already told you, I don’t give a fuck how you look, Chase.”

There’s a pause. Silence from his end. And I think he’s going to drive off. I think he’s going to let it go.

And then a crack sounds too close to my head, and I flinch, dropping down into a ball as the gunshot echoes in the night, ringing in my fucking ear, my heart nearly shooting right out of my chest.

“Let it go, Cortland,” I hear Greg yelling, his voice resounding over the tinny sound in my ear, my hands clamped over my head, fear coiling in my gut. “Or next time, I won’t be aiming at you, and I won’t miss.”