Page 33

I wake as a shiver racks through my body, the dark sheets and heavy duvet no longer on me. I roll to Jax’s side of the bed, searching for his body heat to warm me, but he’s nowhere to be found. I pause for a minute, opening my eyes and looking around the still-dark room. The confusion ebbs away as I remember the knocking sound that came from the other side of the room, how I was vaguely aware of Jax shifting out of bed and trudging towards the door, and how it groaned as he opened it, and how the light flooded into the room, illuminating his naked body. I remember hearing him talking, too soft for me to hear what he was saying, before he came back to the bed, pulling the covers up around me.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be back in a minute,” he whispered quietly into my ear, before I fell asleep again.

Except he isn’t back, not yet anyway. I don’t know how long he has been gone for, was it minutes or hours ago that he left the room? I sit up, turning on the lamp beside the bed, the warm glow of the light doing nothing to help me wake up, but it does illuminate the room enough that I can see Jax has left his phone here, which means he can’t have gone too far. I look at my own phone, the time showing me that there’s still hours until morning.

I stretch, but the shivers still find me, and I grudgingly get out of bed, walking towards the chair to grab the throw blanket off it. I wrap it tightly around me, nestling into the soft fabric as I walk out of the bedroom, and through the dim halls. Some lights have been left on, showing where Jax had walked through the house himself. I peek my head into his office, and as always my eyes take in his vast collection of art as I scan the room. Two of my pieces now hang on the walls as well, much to my embarrassment. Jax asked if he could have them, telling me they reminded him of me, but I never thought he’d display them somewhere he’d see every day. The two paintings are polar opposites, and I can see why they remind him of me; one is saturated with vibrant hues, reminding me of a sunrise, of something full of life and joy. The other is dark, grays and blacks covering the canvas, with bits of red and deep blue woven throughout. Jax told me it shows the two sides of me, the light and the dark, the happiness and sorrow I’ve experienced in my life.

I turn to leave the room, Jax obviously not in here, but something silver catches my eye: a tiny USB sticking out from the side of his computer. I walk towards it, keeping my blanket held tight around me as curiosity keeps my feet moving one in front of the other. I know I’m prying, know that I shouldn’t be snooping around his office, but I also know this USB wasn’t here before we went to bed, and I’m wondering if this is the reason he got woken up in the middle of the night.

I push a few buttons, and squint as the bright light from his computer screen hits my eyes. I type in his password, the one I’ve seen him use every time we sit in here together, and after a few more clicks I open the only file on the USB.

It’s a video, and from the tile I can’t make out what it is, the still image dark and blurry. I click it a couple of times, waiting less than a second before the screen is maximized in front of me. My heart thunders in my chest, and I try to convince myself to walk away, to go find Jax and ask him about this. Before I can persuade myself to leave the room my fingers move quickly to the keyboard and I press play.

It takes me a second to figure out what I’m looking at, the dark lighting and jerky camera movements make me dizzy as I try to focus on the screen in front of me. Bright lights flash, music is blasting, and there’s a sea of people dancing and talking. Heat. This video was taken inside Heat. I watch for a few more minutes, my body instantly alert and my eyes glued to the screen, waiting to see why this video is on a USB in Jax’s office. As if reading my thoughts, the camera pans around the room, and I startle at Bryce’s face looking back at me.

He looks happy, carefree almost, as he throws back a shot to the cheers of those around him, dancing to the music as he reaches for another drink. Whoever is behind the camera passes him one, and the camera moves again, this time landing on me.

The blanket falls of my shoulders as I surge forward, my face now only inches away from the screen. I look at the girl in the video—at me—but I barely recognize myself. My face is gaunt, my eyes are dark, and there are shadows there that I didn’t realize were so obvious. I’m drunk, and probably very high from the looks of it, my movements slow and sloppy. But I’m still smiling, still dancing, and I lean back into a guy who walks up behind me. My eyes don’t leave the screen as I watch Rhett wrap his arms around me, watch myself as I melt into him, angling my head up so he can kiss me. Bile rises in my throat as I watch his lips meet mine as his hands roam over my body, over my chest, and down the middle of my dress. I cringe at how uninhibited I was, how drunk I was, with not a care in the world as Rhett felt me up on the dancefloor in front of hundreds of other people.

This is how Sam saw me so many times.

I shut the thought down, hating this taste of seeing myself through someone else’s eyes, especially during those tumultuous months with Rhett. The camera pans again, and I catch Bryce’s face, catch the uneasy look he gives us as he holds his drink in his hand awkwardly before the camera moves again. I see faces I recognize, not from this night, but from the following day, when they showed up at Poison Ivy when I was working. The video plays for a few more minutes, and I watch myself partying with Rhett and his friends, everyone holding drinks, dancing, talking, and enjoying themselves. Shame rolls through me as I watch Rhett pull a baggie out of his pocket, fishing out few pills before discreetly handing one to me, and putting one in his own mouth. One of the guys, who I don’t know by name, casually walks past him and I see Rhett hand a couple to him as well. So smooth. I wouldn’t have seen it if I hadn’t been watching this video, analyzing every second of it. I can barely hear what’s being said on the video over the sound of my heartbeat. My knuckles are white as I clutch onto the desk, my blanket long forgotten.

“She’s so wasted!” a familiar voice yells over the loud music, and I freeze as I see Tanner step into view. He’s carrying drinks and he hands one to me and two to Rhett, who lets go of my waist to grab the glasses. I down the one I’m holding and only a few seconds later I shoot back the two Rhett had. Something twists in my stomach as I realize no one else is drinking as much as I am. The video jumps forward into a new clip, and I don’t know how much time passed, if I had more to drink or if the drugs had taken effect, but I’m a mess. I’m dancing, or trying to, but leaning heavily on Rhett, his arms basically carrying most of my weight. My motions are slow, and my eyes are half closed, and I watch as the glass in my hand drops to the floor, but the person in the video, the version of myself I barely recognize, doesn’t even realize she dropped the glass. The camera moves quickly scanning the club and it’s weird looking at the remnants of a night spent partying; at the drunk people stumbling around, the subpar music and lightshow, and the laughs and smiles from Rhett and his friends that make my stomach churn.

I’m about to stop the video, no longer wanting to see any more of myself in this sorry state, but it skips ahead again, and this time I bring my hand to my mouth as one of my paintings comes into focus before the camera moves to show my apartment.

I’m biting my nails as my eyes remain on the screen, at the guys milling around my living room and sitting on my couch, their voices loud and unrestrained.

“What are you doing over there? Making a documentary?” someone shouts and the rest of the group roars with laughter.

“Is she like, an artist or something?” the guy behind the camera says, as the video goes back to the stack of canvasses leaning against the wall. “I mean, if you could even call it art.” His narration elicits another roar of laughter before panning back to the group. Someone dumps a bag of coke onto the coffee table, before fishing out a credit card and cutting lines, bending down to snort one. He sits up, wiping the residue from his nose, and pauses, as something off camera catches his attention.

A wide smile forms on his face as he shakes his head. “It sounds like she’s better at doing Rhett than making art.” He chuckles. Something pangs in my chest at the dig, and I know I should stop watching, know I shouldn’t listen to this, but I can’t look away.

“Rhett says she’s the best fuck he’s had in a long time. That’s why he keeps her around, despite Veronica.”

“Speaking of a Lockwood, where the fuck did Bryce end up?”

The guy cutting lines at the table shrugs. “No idea, he bailed before we even left Heat.”

“Lame!” someone off camera yells.

“Seriously, get the camera out of my face… as if I need you recording me doing this,” Tanner says as he comes back into view for a second before the camera turns around, scanning my apartment as the sound of him snorting can be heard in the background.

The guys keep talking, keep doing drugs, until the camera moves once again, focusing on Rhett as he walks down the stairs, a cocky grin on his face as he does up his belt buckle.

“She as good as she sounds?” someone asks, and howls of laugher rip though the room. I close my eyes for a second, reminding myself to breathe as familiar waves of nausea roll through me while a familiar chill makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Better,” Rhett says with a lazy smile. “Though, I don’t know what I prefer: nights like this or nights when she’s a more… active… participant.” He laughs and the others follow suit, making crude jokes and glancing upstairs.

The video goes black and I realize the phone is laying facedown on the table. I can hear the guys talking but I can’t see who is saying what. I zone out for a few minutes, until the voices go quiet before I’m pulled back into the conversation.

“If she ever wants to have a threesome, I’ve got dibs on being asked to join.”

“If you think I’m going to stare at Rhett naked while I’m fucking her, you’re delusional.” Tanner’s unmistakable voice sounds loudly. “I don’t want anything except naked chicks near me.”

There’s more laughter until someone cuts in, “You’re acting like you actually have a chance with her.”

“Don’t I?” Tanner’s voice counters. “Unless you’re dating her or something now?” he drawls casually, but I hear the challenge in his voice.

The silence is palpable, and I wait, assuming everyone is looking at Rhett for an answer.

“Fuck no,” Rhett says, and I feel a little piece of me break at his absolute dismissal of me. “Me? Date her?” He laughs with the rest of them. “Give me a spin in your new Porsche and I’ll give you a spin with her if she’s down,” Rhett drawls.

“Fine,” Tanner says casually.

My breathing is shallow as I watch the scene unfold before me, as the camera is picked up and follows Tanner and another guy as they walk to the stairs.

“Wanna fuck, Evi?” Tanner calls out as he walks up the stairs, before sniggering as only silence answers him. “Well look at that—she isn’t saying no.”

I pause the video. It stops on Tanner’s face, on the grin that’s nothing short of predatory. I stand up, moving on autopilot as I walk out of the room, the blanket forgotten on the chair.

I walk slowly down the hallway, once again following the trail of lights, shivering from both the cold and the shock of what I’ve just watched.

I knew something had happened. Even if my memory didn’t, my body did.

I remember what it was like going into work, what it was like feeling my bruised knees on the hard floor as I counted bottles of alcohol before my shift. I remember how angry, and confused I felt confronting Rhett, and how lost I felt walking to the bar after my shift, trying to drink away everything that I felt had happened, even if I couldn’t put it into words.

I remember Jax getting me home, remember him pausing and asking about the bruises on my legs, and now I’m pretty sure I know where they came from, I just don’t know who left them.

As I pass the kitchen I hear a loud smack, followed by several more in a row. I follow the sound to the workout room, where I pause outside the doorway. I peek my head through the open door, looking into the room only to find Jax absolutely pummeling the pads Ryan has on his hands. He’s dripping in sweat, his fists are a blur, and despite Ryan’s size and muscular build, I can see him straining to keep his stance as Jax’s punches knock him back a step.

“She deserves to see it,” Jax says between punches, his breathing is heavy, but he doesn’t stop.

“It will break her,” Ryan says, his own breathing labored as he continues to block Jax’s blows.

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I recognize what this will do to her?” he yells, but there’s a sorrow to it, a pain underneath the anger.

I watch Jax as he turns his anger into something tangible, as he works out the aggression blazing within him, channeling it into this workout with Ryan. A workout that I’m sure neither of them planned on doing right now.

“All in or all out remember? That was my deal with her,” Jax says, his voice softer, quieter now. “She can decide if she wants to see it. She deserves to have a choice.”

Ryan only nods in agreement, bracing against Jax’s strength until he’s winded, his punches slowing down until they stop altogether. No one has noticed me yet, and I clear my throat as I walk into the room as Jax wipes the sweat from his brow. Ryan looks at me briefly before averting his gaze and it’s only then I realize what I’m wearing, my blanket left forgotten in the office, and my lace bralette and underwear leaving little to the imagination.

“Christ, love.” Jax’s gaze roams over my body, lingering for a second on the sheer lace between my thighs before he moves, grabbing his shirt from the weight bench pushed up against the wall. He walks up to me, gently pulling the shirt over my head. I look at him as I bring my arms into the shirt, noticing the gleam to his eyes and the beads of sweat covering his face and torso.

The fabric falls to my thighs, and only once it’s on do I realize how cold I am.

I look over to Ryan who gives me an assessing stare before giving Jax a pointed look.

“What’s going on in here?” I ask, knowing exactly why Jax is working off the anger I can feel bubbling beneath the surface, exactly why Ryan’s gaze is as dark as midnight.

The sorrow in Jax’s eyes rises to the surface for a second before he pushes it back down.

“We got the evidence,” he says gently. “We’ve got enough to ruin him, to ruin both of them.”

I go to speak but Ryan cuts me off, the darkness in his eyes retreating only to show the same grief-stricken look as Jax. “It’s a lot, Evi,” Ryan says, as if he’s trying to soften the blow of what they’re about to tell me. “It’s… a lot. It wasn’t easy to watch it’s—”

“I know,” I cut him off.

Surprise and confusion flashes across their faces, looking at me for an explanation.

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” I continue as I shift from one foot to the other, my fingers fidgeting in front of me as I look at Jax. “I, um—I was looking for you, and when I went into your office, I noticed a USB that wasn’t there yesterday…”

“Shit,” they both say, almost in unison. They give each other a worried glance, before looking back at me.

“I stopped watching before anything happened, but I can guess how it ended.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Who? How many?” I ask before I can stop myself. A part of me doesn’t want to know the answer, doesn’t want to hear the words come out of Jax’s mouth, but a larger part of me needs to hear it, needs to know so I can find closure.

“Four,” Ryan says, his voice deathly calm. I look at him as tears well in my eyes, and Jax’s thumb wipes them away as they start to fall.

“Rhett, Tanner, and two others we don’t know,” he says carefully. “Did you recognize anyone else?”

I shake my head. “I don’t remember any of that night. A few flashbacks, but no faces or names. How? How could I have done this to myself? Gotten myself so fucked up I can’t even remember the people who I’ve slept with?” I throw my hands up in the air, the frustration and inner turmoil starting to overflow.

“Done this to yourself? People you slept with? ” Jax repeats quietly. “They fucking raped you. They drugged you and raped you.”

He holds my hands as he looks at me, his eyes searching mine. “Your actions, your choices, to party, to drink, to go out dancing, have nothing to do with what they decided to do once you passed out.”

“But Rhett and I—”

“I don’t give a fuck how many times you told Rhett you wanted him, how many times you invited him into your bed. The fucking second you weren’t able to consent, that invitation is void. And for him to just offer you to his friends—” He pauses as his eyes darken. “The bruises on your thighs the night I brought you home… that was after this,” he says.

Not really a question, but I nod in confirmation anyway.

“I need names,” he says, his fists clenching by his sides.

“I’ll call Bryce,” Ryan says.

I turn to him, only to see his body tight with tension as well, a mirror of Jax.

“He was there that night—at the beginning anyway. He’d know everyone in Rhett’s group,” Ryan explains quietly.

Jax doesn’t look at him as he responds, but instead leans in closer to me, one hand gently on my waist while the other turns my face towards him. His voice softer than before. “Tell me you understand, love, tell me you know this isn’t your fault, that you didn’t do anything to cause this. I know you’re used to shouldering the blame, I know you’ve been led to believe that everything bad that happens to you is your fault, but please, tell me you understand that none of this is because of your actions. That no one ever, and I mean ever, deserves what happened to you.”

“I don’t deserve you,” I say quietly, leaning into Jax as his arms wrap around me.

*

I follow Jax into the kitchen, the smell of coffee reaching my nose before we step into the space as Ryan is dutifully pouring it into three mugs, adding sugar and cream accordingly. After we spoke about the video it became clear we were all sleep-deprived and emotional over what we found, so Jax suggested we speak over coffee instead. So here we are, fifteen minutes later and a quick shower for Jax, about to decide what to do with the evidence the tech guys found for us.

Shadows still lurk in the corners of the room, the lights only able to illuminate so much of the space.

We sit at the kitchen table, and I hunch over my coffee as soon as Ryan places it in front of me, my hands wrapping around the warm mug.

“Bryce will be here in a while,” Ryan says as he takes a seat across from us.

“You called him at… four in the morning?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes,” Ryan says simply as he brings his mug to his mouth and takes a sip.

“And he agreed to come?”

“He didn’t have a choice.” Ryan flashes me a smile and I wonder what lurks on the other side of his laidback nature, what parts of him he keeps hidden so the world doesn’t see exactly what he’s capable of.

“What do you want to do about this video?” Jax asks me.

“I… don’t know,” I say, looking between him and Ryan. “I just figured you guys would do whatever needs to be done with it to get Rhett and Tanner to show themselves again…” I trail off.

“It’s your call, love,” Jax says. “The video would incriminate them, would cause a scandal that would send shockwaves through every corner of their lives, but I’m not going to do it… I’m not going to show the world a video of you, naked, with them, if I don’t have to.”

“We could blur her face,” Ryan says, his fingers tapping on the table as he thinks out loud. “We have tech guys for a reason… I doubt it would be hard for them to make it so no one could figure out it was you.”

Jax raises an eyebrow towards me, as if to say, your call.

“Is there any other way to find them quickly? Any other way to bring them to justice or hit them this hard?”

“We could find another way, it would take longer, but we could make it happen.”

“But that could take, what—days? Weeks? Months? Longer maybe? And this would take…”

“Minutes,” Ryan answers quietly. “It would take a matter of minutes to leak this video to everyone on Bryce’s list.”

“Leak it then.” I let the words slip from my mouth before I can second-guess my decision, ignoring the shame and embarrassment that causes my heart to beat quickly and my hands to feel clammy.

“If that’s all it will take for everyone to see who they actually are, if that’s all it will take for them to get called home and for you to catch them”—I feel the anger rising in my chest—“I want every part of their lives destroyed. If this is going to do that, going to get them fired, going to get them ostracized from everyone and everything they enjoy, then do it. Leak it.”

I go quiet as the weight of my decision sinks in.

“Hours.” Jax’s voice sounds quietly, and both of us look at him. “It will take me a couple of hours.”

Ryan tilts his head in question for a split second, before a sadistic smile crosses his face.

“A couple of hours to do what exactly?” I ask slowly.

“To kill the other two in the video,” he says quietly, his voice dripping with violence as if he has already allowed his mind to think of exactly how he’s going to seek his own form of justice.

“That won’t look suspicious at all,” Ryan drawls, taking a breath and another sip of coffee. “A video of these four guys surfaces, only for two of them to wind up dead hours later, and the other two go missing as soon as mommy and daddy call them to come home.”

“A lot of people don’t like rapists.” Jax shrugs, and his tone doesn’t leave his decision up for debate.

I take another sip of my coffee, the hot liquid waking me up but not doing much to soothe my nerves or settle the frustration deep within me.

I stand up, feeling confident in my decision, trusting that this is the fastest way to bring them down, though I can’t help but feel nervous all the same.

“Let me know when you’re done with Bryce,” I say quietly. “And, um, just make sure my face is blurred really well.”

Jax nods, his hand brushing against my side as I walk away from the table, taking my coffee with me.

“I’m sorry they did this to you, Evi.” Ryan’s voice sounds gentle.

I stop and turn, looking back at him. “I know we’ve said it before, I know you know it, but you didn’t deserve how any of your time with Rhett played out. And I promise you, he will pay for everything he put you through.”

I give Ryan a sad smile before I keep walking to the bedroom. I suddenly feel like I need to paint exactly what I’m feeling right now.