CHAPTER NINE
Aggie
I trace my fingers over the smooth granite countertop, cool to the touch despite the desert heat.
My emerald eyes stare back at me from the mirror, another way my maternal grandmother's genes come straight through.
I've done my best to distance myself from those memories of my childhood, but not because of my grandmother.
Because of my birth father, or sperm donor—bleaching my fiery red hair to a pale blonde, burying my accent under years of American influence, even if it doesn’t always work out.
But some scars run too deep to ever truly fade.
"Get it together, Aggie," I mutter to myself. "It's just a party. You've faced worse than this."
Worse like the memory of my father's fists raining down on my mother's bruised and bloodied face.
The sound of her desperate cries echoing through our tiny house back in Scotland.
The helplessness of being a wee lass, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the man who was supposed to protect us became a monster before my eyes.
That was the first time I understood the ones who were meant to protect you could ruin you.
I shake my head sharply, banishing those thoughts to the darkest corners of my mind where they belong.
That was a lifetime ago.
I'm not that scared little girl anymore.
I finish applying a coat of deep red lipstick—my armor for the night ahead.
My phone buzzes with a text from Trevor:
Can't wait to see you tonight, babe! ;)
Babe?
I’m not his fucking babe.
I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck that way.
Trevor's about as exciting as lukewarm porridge, but he's harmless enough.
And going to this stupid frat party with him beats sitting alone in my room, drowning in memories I'd rather forget.
"You've got this," I tell my reflection firmly. "Just a few hours of small talk and cheap beer, then you can come home and binge-watch trashy reality TV until your brain melts."
Grabbing my leather jacket and slipping on a pair of well-worn combat boots, I head for the door.
The sorority house is oddly quiet for a Friday night—most of the girls must already be out painting the town red.
Lucky them.
As I make my way down the stairs, my roommate Sienna pokes her head out of the common room. "Hey, girl, heading out?"
I pause, torn between wanting to spill my guts to my best friend and maintaining the tough-as-nails facade I've so carefully cultivated.
"Yeah, that party at Trevor's frat house. Should be a real rager," I deadpan, unable to keep the sarcasm from creeping into my voice.
Sienna's brow furrows with concern. "You okay, Ags? You seem a little... off."
For a split second, I consider telling her everything.
About the memories haunting me, the weight of the past pressing down on my shoulders.
But I can't bear the thought of her pity, of being seen as weak or broken.
So I force a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "I'm fine, just not looking forward to making small talk with Trevor's meathead buddies all night. Save me some ice cream for when I get back?"
Sienna doesn't look entirely convinced, but she nods. "You got it. Text me if you need an emergency extraction, okay?"
"Will do. Don't wait up!" I call over my shoulder as I head out into the warm Vegas night.
The walk to Trevor's frat house isn't long, but with each step, I feel my walls breaking down.
What the hell am I doing?
I don't even like Trevor, let alone want to spend an entire evening surrounded by his drunken bros.
But I made a commitment, and if there's one thing Grim—my step-father and the only real dad I've ever known—taught me, it's the importance of keeping your word.
Even when it sucks.
As I approach the frat house, the thump of bass-heavy music grows louder.
Red solo cups litter the front lawn just like the last time, and the porch is crowded with people laughing and shouting over the din.
It's your typical college party scene, but it feels a world away from the life I left behind in Billings.
I spot Trevor on the porch, surrounded by a group of his frat brothers.
He's nursing a beer and laughing at something one of them said.
When he catches sight of me, his face lights up in a way that makes my stomach churn with guilt.
He may be as boring as watching paint dry, but he doesn't deserve to be strung along.
Trevor calls out, waving me over enthusiastically. "Aggie! You made it!"
I paste on what I hope passes for a genuine smile and make my way through the crowd. "Wild party, huh?"
He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "Only the best for my girl."
The possessive term makes my skin crawl, but I bite back the urge to snap at him.
It's not his fault I'm in a shite mood tonight.
"Can I get you a drink?" Trevor asks, already half-turning toward the keg.
I nod, figuring some liquid courage might help me get through this night. "Sure, thanks."
As Trevor heads off to fetch me a beer, one of his frat brothers—Jake, I think his name is— sidles up next to me. "So, you're the famous Aggie we've been hearing so much about."
I arch an eyebrow. "Famous, huh? Should I be worried about what exactly you've been hearing?"
Jake laughs, a little too loudly. "Only good things, I promise. Trevor won't shut up about how smart and beautiful you are."
Great. Just what I needed—more guilt to pile on top of everything else. "That's... sweet of him," I manage, my voice strained.
Jake leans in closer, his breath reeking of cheap beer. "You know, if you ever get bored of Trevor, I'd be happy to show you a good time."
I fix him with an icy glare that would make my ma proud. "I'd rather stick my hand in a blender, thanks."
Before Jake can respond, Trevor returns with my drink. "Here you go, babe. Having fun?"
I physically want to vomit.
I’m. Not. His. Babe.
I take a long swig of lukewarm beer to avoid answering right away.
The truth is, I'd rather be anywhere else right now, and while I’ll be talking to him about this ‘babe’ nonsense later, I won’t emasculate him in front of his buddies.
I force myself to nod and lie straight through my teeth. "Yeah, it's great. Thanks for inviting me."
Trevor beams, clearly oblivious to my discomfort.
He throws an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "I'm so glad you're here. Want to dance?"
The thought of being pressed up against Trevor's sweaty body on the makeshift dance floor makes my skin crawl.
But before I can come up with an excuse, a commotion near the front door catches everyone's attention.
"Holy shit, is that who I think it is?" one of Trevor's frat brothers exclaims.
I crane my neck to see what all the fuss is about, and my heart nearly stops.
Because there, striding through the front door like he owns the place, is Jolt.
The man who's been haunting my dreams.
His dark eyes scan the room, and when they land on me, I swear a jab of electricity rushes through my body.
Trevor mutters, his arm tightening possessively around me. "Who invited the biker trash?"
I shrug off his embrace, my eyes never leaving Jolt.
"I need some air," I say abruptly, pushing my way through the crowd toward the back door.
The cool night air is a blessed relief after the stifling heat of the party. I lean against the railing of the back porch, trying to calm my racing heart.
What the hell is Jolt doing here?
And why does the mere sight of him make me feel more alive than I have in weeks?
"Fancy meeting you here, Ghost," a deep voice rumbles behind me.
I spin around to find Jolt leaning against the doorframe, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"What are you doing here?" I demand, proud of how steady my voice sounds despite the butterflies doing somersaults in my stomach.
Jolt shrugs, his leather cut creaking with the movement. "Heard there was a party. Thought I'd check it out."
I narrow my eyes, not buying his casual act for a second. "At a college frat house? Try again."
He takes a step closer, and I have to fight the urge to back away.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
The mixture of sandalwood and cedar overwhelms me, but I force myself to focus.
"I'm serious, Jolt. Why are you really here?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
He studies me for a moment, his dark eyes intense. "Maybe I wanted to see you, Aggie. Ever think of that?"
His words send a thrill through me, but I squash it down. "How’d you even know I was here?"
Jolt takes another step closer, and this time I can't help but back up until I feel the railing press against my lower back. “You’re not hard to find, sweetheart.”
He places his hands on either side of me, effectively caging me in.
I clear my throat. “I’m here with someone, obviously.”
"Yeah, all dolled up for some fuckin’ frat boy who clearly doesn't deserve you," he growls softly.
I lift my chin defiantly. "That's none of your business."
I might want Jolt, but I don’t want him to know how badly I crave him.
"Isn't it?" He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "Because from where I'm standin’, it looks like you're trying to convince yourself you belong in this world when we both know you don't."
I push against his chest, creating some much-needed space between us. "You don't know anything about me or what I want."
Jolt's lips curve into a dangerous smile. "I know more than you think, Ghost. I know you're running from something—or someone. I know that fire in your eyes isn't meant for playin’ house with college boys. And I know that deep down, you're craving something these trust fund brats could never give you."
His words hit too close to home, and I feel my walls begin to crumble.
"Stop," I whisper, hating how weak I sound.
Jolt's expression softens slightly.
He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
The gentle touch is at odds with his rough appearance, and it nearly undoes me.
"Come on, Aggie," he says, his voice low and persuasive. "Let me show you what real freedom feels like. How about we ditch this party and go on one ride, that's all I'm asking."
I close my eyes, fighting an internal battle.
Every instinct is screaming at me to say yes, to climb on the back of his bike and give in.
But the rational part of my brain—the part that remembers I made a promise—won't let me give in so easily.
"I can't," I say finally, opening my eyes to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, Jolt, but I just can't. I said I’d be here with him, so I need to see the night through."
For a moment, disappointment flashes across his face. Then his cocky grin is back in place. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he says with a shrug. "But mark my words, sweetheart. I know his type. He’s gonna fuck up and you’re gonna run as far as you can away from him."
With that, he turns and strides back into the party, leaving me breathless and conflicted on the porch.
I stay outside for a few more minutes, trying to compose myself before facing Trevor and the others again.
When I finally make my way back inside, I spot one of my other sorority sisters, Leah, by the keg.
She takes one look at my face and frowns.
"Hey, you okay?" she asks, concern evident in her voice.
I force a smile. "Yeah, just needed some air for a bit. It's pretty crowded in here."
Leah nods, but I can tell she doesn’t really believe what I’m saying. "Want to head back to the house? We could have a girls' night in. I think Sienna’s back there, too."
The offer is tempting, but I shake my head. "Nah, I'm already here. Might as well try to have some fun, right?"
As if on cue, Trevor appears at my side, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "There you are, babe! I was starting to think you'd ditched me."
I resist the urge to shrug off his arm, reminding myself why I came here in the first place.
Leah grabs my arm, pulling me aside before Trevor can drag me any further.
Her eyes flick between me and Trevor, concern etched on her face.
"Aggie, you don't have to do this," she whispers urgently. "Just ditch him. You clearly don't want to be here."
I sigh, running a hand through my bleached blonde hair.
"I should give him a chance," I mutter, though the words feel hollow even to my own ears. "He's not a bad guy, just..."
Leah interjects, raising an eyebrow."Boring? Judgy? An asshole?"
I can't help but chuckle. "Aye, that's one way to put it. I really don't like him all that much, if I'm being honest."
Trevor's voice cuts through the noise of the party. "Aggie! Come on, some of the guys are playing beer pong and I know we can beat ‘em!"
Leah’s grip tightens. "Seriously, just bail. You don't owe him anything."
For a moment, I'm tempted.
The thought of spending the evening pretending to be interested in Trevor's frat stories makes me want to run for the hills.
But then I think of my mum, of how she always taught me to be kind, even when it's hard.
This could have been a one off thing, and I’m hoping that it was.
I really am.
"I can't," I say, squeezing Leah’s hand before letting go. "I promised I'd be here. I'm trying to be a decent person tonight, yeah?"
"Being decent doesn't mean torturing yourself," Leah argues.
She knows how stubborn I can be.
I force a smile, hoping it looks more convincing than it feels. "It's just one night. I'll survive."
Leah's brow furrows as she watches me fidget with the hem of my shirt.
Her eyes narrow, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head.
"Hold up," she says, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you actually trying to date this Trevor guy? Is this, like, a proper date?"
I can't help but snort, the sound a mix of amusement and frustration. "Christ, no. It's just a party, Leah."
"Then why are you?—"
"Look," I interject, my Scottish lilt becoming more pronounced as my irritation grows. "I'm not dating anyone, all right? So I'm allowed to be at this bloody party with him if I want to."
Leah’s hands fly up in surrender, her eyes wide. "Whoa, I wasn't accusing you of anything, dude."
The fight drains out of me as quickly as it came.
"I'm sorry, Leah. It's just... it's been a rough day. Jolt showed up here, and I wasn’t fuckin’ expecting that."
"Hey, it's okay," she says softly, “We all have those days. You're just trying to get through it, right?"
I nod, grateful for her understanding.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “I’m gonna get back to it, I’ll talk to ye later.”
“Later,” Leah comments as I finally give in and walk over to Trevor.
Trevor’s all smiles as I finally walk up to the beer pong table, and he introduces me to some of his buddies. “Ay, this is my girl, Aggie!”
The pulsing bass from inside the house thrums through my body, but it's nothing compared to the thundering of my heart.
I can't let this go on any longer.
"Trevor," I say, my voice firm despite the tremor I feel inside. "Can you not call me 'your girl'? I don't like it."
The reaction is immediate.
His frat brothers let out a collective "Ooooooo," like we're back in grade school.
Their eyes gleam, hungry for drama that’s about to break out
He throws an arm around me and immediately tenses, his fingers digging into my shoulder.
The easy-going mask slips, revealing a flash of anger in his eyes.
"What'd you say?" he growls, low enough that only I can hear.
I try to step back, but his grip tightens. "I said, don't call me that. We're not together, Trevor."
His jaw clenches, a muscle twitching.
Without warning, he grabs my arm, yanking me toward the side of the porch. "We need to talk. Privately."
Rage flares within me, hot and familiar. I plant my feet, wrenching my arm from his grasp.
"Don't you think for one second you're about to touch me like that," I snarl, my accent thick with fury.
Trevor's eyes widen, then narrow dangerously.
He leans in, his breath hot on my face. "Really? You didn't mind getting manhandled by that slimy fucker the other week."
The words hit me like a slap.
I feel the blood drain from my face, replaced by a cold fury that settles in my bones.
My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms.
I snap, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else I don't want to examine too closely. "Yeah, well, you're not him!"
The words burst out of me before I can stop them, raw and honest in a way I hadn't intended.
Trevor recoils as if I've struck him, his face a mask of shock and hurt that quickly morphs into disgust.
The party around us seems to fade away, the pounding music nothing more than a dull throb in the background.
For a moment, we're frozen.
I can feel the eyes of his frat brothers on us through the window, their earlier amusement turning to something darker, more predatory.
My skin crawls under their scrutiny, and I fight the urge to wrap my arms around myself.
I won't show weakness, not here, not now.
Trevor shakes his head slowly, his lips curling into a sneer. "I honestly expected better of you, Aggie," he says, his voice dripping with disappointment and judgment.
Something else inside me snaps.
All the pent-up emotions from earlier—the memories of my childhood, the weight of horrible childhood memories as we approach Christmas—they all come rushing to the surface.
I let out a harsh, bitter laugh that sounds foreign even to my own ears.
"I'm surprised you did, honestly," I retort, my words sharp enough to cut. "Leave me the fuck alone, and don't you ever fuckin’ even look in my damn direction again."
The venom in my voice surprises even me, but I can't bring myself to regret it.
I stand here, chest heaving, emerald eyes blazing with defiance.
I spin on my heel, my heart pounding in my chest as I stride away from Trevor.
The bass from the party thrums through the air, but it feels distant now, like I'm moving through water.
My boots crunch on the gravel driveway as I make my way to the street.
Trevor's voice calls out behind me, but I don't turn back. "Aggie! Wait!"
Keep walking, Aggie. Don't give him the satisfaction.
The cool night air hits my face, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm the trembling in my hands.
As I reach the sidewalk, I hear footsteps approaching rapidly.
Trevor says, grabbing my arm. "Come on, don't be like that."
I whirl around, yanking my arm from his grip. "What part of 'leave me alone' did you not understand?" I snarl.
Trevor holds up his hands, eyes wide. "I just wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have said that about... you know."
I laugh bitterly. "Oh, you mean about me getting 'manhandled' by that 'slimy fucker'? Yeah, real classy, Trevor."
He at least has the decency to look ashamed. "I was just jealous, okay? I really like you, Aggie."
God, why did I ever agree to this?
"Look," I say, forcing my voice to steady, "I'm not interested. Not in you, not in this whole... whatever this is. Just go back to your party and find some hammered girl who gives into your antics."
Trevor's face darkens. "Is this because of that biker? You into bad boys or something?"
The accusation stings, mostly because there's a kernel of truth to it.
But I'm not about to let him know that.
"This is because of me," I say firmly. "I make my own choices, Trevor. And right now, I'm choosing to walk away."
And I leave him, walking back to the sorority house, ready to be done with this night.
As a matter of fact, I fish out my phone and shoot a text to Sienna and Leah:
Going back to the house. I’m thinking wine, popcorn, and chick flicks!