Home > Books > Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(79)

Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(79)

Author:Ilsa Madden-Mills

I love Eric. Wholeheartedly. Completely. Unconditionally.

I love his spontaneity. The layers of darkness inside him. The way he holds me. The shape of his lips. The warmth of his hand in mine.

But family is the backbone of everything he’s ever known.

He’s eaten up with guilt and shame.

He wears the mantle like a robe.

Hedge fund manager. Billionaire. He’s going to live the life his family wants.

And I have to live mine.

Sniffing, I walk to the valet station and smile as I lie through my teeth. “You know what? I just got a text from Eric. He told me to take his truck back and he’ll catch a ride with someone else.”

Relief hits him. Obviously, he was worried about me. “Great. I’ll pull it around for you.” He grabs a set of keys from the board.

The moment he disappears, the headlights of another car pull up into the circle, a sleek black Mercedes AMG GT. The vehicle stops in front of me, the passenger-side window powering down.

“Need a ride, Ju-Ju?” Parker asks.

I rear back. “I have one.”

He puts the car in park and leans over the window. “Ah, did Eric leave you out here all alone?”

“Fuck off.”

He checks his rearview mirror and calls to the valet, “Hey, if you want a tip, ask for the blow job. She’s shit with everything else.”

My blood boils as rage awakens and begs to be let out to play.

Maybe it’s because I never got vindication after he cuffed me to his bed. Maybe it’s because he came here tonight to ruin Eric and embarrass me. Maybe it’s because I love Eric and I’m terrified of the pain that’s going to come with it.

The valet left the tire iron on the ground from earlier. I snatch it and wield it like a weapon.

Parker laughs. “Ju-Ju. You can barely hold that thing. Put it down.”

He’s never going to learn. He’ll keep hurting people as long as he breathes.

Why didn’t I report him? Even if it would have brought awful scrutiny into my life.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins. Once, I loved him. The mere idea seems preposterous.

I pull the tire iron back and slam it against his passenger-side mirror.

A loud popping noise reverberates as my hands tingle from the impact. The mirror jiggles for a moment, then drops and hangs by a single wire.

His eyes flare. “What the fuck!”

I slam it down again, hitting the glass of the windshield. It emits a sickening crunch and spider webs.

“Stop it, you crazy whore!”

Not that word. Not ever.

“Whoa,” the valets calls, giving himself plenty of space as he approaches us. “Let’s bring this down a notch.”

My chest rises rapidly, the metal stick heavy in my hands. I swallow thickly, but don’t want to let the anger go.

The other valet returns with Eric’s truck and the headlights flash in my face.

Parker throws open the door and stalks over to me, hands raised. “You stupid—”

I raise the weapon back up. “My next shot will be your balls.”

He freezes, gauging the situation. “Why?”

Why?

“Leave. Eric. Alone.”

“Yeah, all right! Fine!” he snaps, then without warning, he reaches and tries to grab it from me. I swipe it down, connecting with his knuckles.

“What the—what the fuck?” He grabs his hand. “We’ve got a bowl game, you—”

I take the tire iron in both hands and press it up against his chest and shove.

He stumbles to the ground and our eyes connect.

I laugh, the sound a little off.

“How does it feel? To be scared?” I ask. “That’s how I felt when you tackled me and took me to your room.”

With one last glare at him, I drop the tire iron and walk to Eric’s truck. Half of my hair is out of the up-do, so I remove the clip and shake it out, letting it fall to my shoulders. My heart beats rapidly. My skin feels singed by fire. I feel . . .

Alive.

By the time I pull out, Parker has jetted away like a scalded cat.

I crank up the music as I pull out of the drive. I hit a couple of dead-ends as I try different roads to get out of the subdivision. Soon, the mansions give way to smaller row homes, and in the blink of an eye, I’m in Sparrow Lake.

My hands ache as I clench the steering wheel.

I am my own universe. I’m made of black holes and glittering galaxies.

It doesn’t matter that I take my clothes off for money.

I matter.

I fucking matter.

The truck pulls into the police station. I get out of the truck, walk in, and approach the lady at the front desk. She’s wearing a uniform. Her name tag says Officer Carden.

 79/98   Home Previous 77 78 79 80 81 82 Next End