Page 141 of Wicked Little Darling

He wasn’t making any sense, but the sadness in his voice, the utter hopelessness, was devastating.

“You disappeared,” he whispered, raising his eyes to mine. “Just…gone.”

“I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely. “I’m sorry I disappeared. Val had to go to the hospital and I accidentally left my phone at our house. I couldn’t leave him. Please don’t be mad. It’s okay if you are, but I need you to understand what happened, so can we talk about this tomorrow when you’re sober?”

I cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb beneath his eye. He closed his eyes and leaned into my hand, then growled, “Who’s the liar now? Lost your phone? You’re a fucking liar. How were you texting me yesterday then? Huh?”

I furrowed my brows and cupped his other cheek, tilting his face up toward mine. “What do you mean, I texted you yesterday? I didn’t have my phone until a few hours ago.”

“You texted me yesterday, youliar,” he cried, slamming his fists into my chest.

I texted him yesterday? That wasn’t possible.

Was he just drunk and didn’t know what he was talking about? Or…

A sinking feeling started pulling at me, like I was being dragged down into quicksand.

“Let me see your phone,” I demanded, feeling around in his pants pockets. He wobbled on his feet, fingers curling into my forearms to keep himself steady. I found his phone and pulled it out, then opened up our messages, trying to read them throughthe cracked screen as I wrapped an arm around him and held him against me.

A coldness began spreading beneath my skin, and I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. It didn’t make any sense. I hadn’t said those things. Those horrible, hurtful, awful, disgusting things. I would never say anything like that to him. Ever.

I looked at my own messages, just to make sure, and they weren’t there on my phone.

Then how…?

A wave of fury surged through me, and I started to shake with the force of it.

Everett.

He was the only one who would’ve done something like this, the only one who could’ve gotten my phone.

No wonder he’d told me all that shit about Reese. He was trying to pit us against each other.

I’d never hated him more than I did in that moment.

Reese’s head fell forward onto my arm, and I wrapped my hand around the nape of his neck, rubbing my fingers into the heated skin there. He was so damn hot, burning up from the all the alcohol.

I pressed my lips into his hair, inhaling that sweet scent and wishing I hadn’t had to leave him alone, wishing I’d just taken him with me when I left. I’d forever be kicking myself for forgetting my phone at the manor that day. In a way, this was my fault for leaving it there. If I’d just remembered to bring it, this never would’ve happened. Reese wouldn’t be this broken up.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, and when he choked on a sob, I wrapped both arms around him and crushed him to me. “I’m so fucking sorry, Reese.”

“I hate you,” he blubbered. “I hate you, I really, seriously, hate you, Dakota.”

Every word was like a knife to the gut, sliding deeper and deeper. I knew I could explain to him in the morning that it hadn’t been me who sent those texts, that hopefully he’d believe me, and I could apologize forever…but it would never undo the damage that had already been done. It would never take this pain away, even after he knew it wasn’t me.

“Let’s go home. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed, okay? You’ll feel better after you get some sleep.”

He was mumbling into my chest now, and I could tell by the way he was barely able to stay upright that he was getting ready to pass out soon. He wasn’t even wearing any shoes, and I wasn’t letting him walk all the way back like that.

I picked him up and he didn’t protest, just wrapped his arms around my neck and locked his legs around me. I had one hand curled around the back of his head, an arm underneath his ass, supporting him. He burrowed his face into my throat with a small sound, almost a whimper, clinging to me as if I hadn’t broken his heart.

And as much as I was hurting for him, I was mad at him for being so careless with himself, for putting himself in a situation where he was utterly vulnerable. With strangers, no less. A pack of assholes.

Anything could’ve happened. Fuckinganything. And I never would have known if he hadn’t texted me. What would I have done then? Just sat in that mess of a room with my head in my hands, waiting for him to return? I doubt he would’ve made it home on his own, not in this state.

Maybe something had already happened and he didn’t even know. That frat was generally pretty harmless, especially compared to some of the others, but still…there was no screening process for those parties. Anyone could go.