I dig the key to the handcuffs out of my back pocket and undo them. Before she can even move, I’m pushing her onto her back and sitting down next to her. Reaching out, I push her hair from her face. “Tell me what he said.” She’s pretty fucking drunk, and I’m not even sure how much of tonight she’ll remember when she wakes up. So, I need to use this as an opportunity to find out everything before she sobers up and becomes a brick wall again like she was earlier today.
Her eyes are closed, and she’s breathing heavily. She’s about to pass out again anytime soon.
“Blake?” I bark, and she opens her heavy eyes.
“Today. Earlier.” She licks her lips, reaching up and running her hands through her hair. “I saw you talking to your wife.”
I frown.
“Well, he caught me watching you talk to your future wife.” She chuckles. “I think he thought I was jealous. Like he thinks I already love you.” More laughter follows, like that’ll never happen. “And he told me that you may have me now, but once you’re done with me, I’m stuck with him until I die. And he’ll make my life a living hell.” She yawns and mumbles on. “Something about not seeing daylight. Your slut, his whore …” She trails off.
“Blake …”
“He pushed me up against the wall and licked my face.” She shudders. “Thought I was going to puke.”
“He what?” I snap, my body tensing while my blood pressure rises at that thought. But she ignores my outburst. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me this when I asked you earlier?”
She looks up at me. Her pretty blue eyes look unfocused and tired. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but I know Matt is the reason you chose me.”
I sigh. She’s not far from the truth. “Blake …”
“I will not be punished for something he has done, Ryat,” she says softly. “You can fuck me, but I told myself that Matt will not dictate my life anymore.”
I run a hand through my hair at her confession. She’s not wrong. Matt is why I had to pick her. But it wouldn’t have happened without her. “Why did you let me choose you?” I ask.
She gives me a weak smile. “Because you made me feel wanted.”
Matt is a fool and a dead man!
“I hate everyone,” she goes on, eyes closed once again. “My mom for making me marry him. Matt for blaming me for you hating him. And you …” She trails off and whispers, “I’ll just run away once you’re done with me.”
I stand staring down at her, my hands fisting. Why the fuck was he even talking to her in the first place? He told her I’m marrying Cindy? That may be true, but we don’t discuss that shit. How would he know that?
When she starts snoring softly, I place the handcuffs in her nightstand, then I cover her up with her comforter, kissing her forehead good night.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BLAKELY
IT’S A BEAUTIFUL fall day here in Texas. “Bad Intentions” by Niykee Heaton is blasting in my ears while I run the old trail behind my parents’ house. I’ve grown up here. Lived in the same house all my life. My father’s office is in downtown Dallas, but we live quite a ways from there on twenty acres. He commutes, but for the most part, he’s not even in the state. He has to travel a lot for work.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I come to a stop. Breathing heavily, I yank the earbuds from my ears. “Hello?” I ask, looking around. To my left is a small pond. Other than that, it’s just trees back here. “You’re being paranoid, Blakely.” Matt gets on me all the time for running this trail. He says it’s unsafe.
I put the earbuds back in and start jogging again. I’ve been at it for almost thirty minutes. I’m almost to my turning around point. The song changes to “Mirrors” by Natalia Kills as the trail turns to the right, and I see something out of the corner of my eye. “What the …？” I stop and rip the earbuds out, turning around to go back. “Hello?” I shout this time. “Anyone there?” There are bobcat sightings around here, so maybe it’s an animal of some sort.
When I’m again convinced I’m losing it because there’s nothing here, I put my earbuds back in and turn back to continue. I jump when I see someone standing in front of me in the middle of the trail. My heart hammers in my chest. It’s a man dressed in black jeans and a black short-sleeved T-shirt, stance wide and arms down by his side. He’s got to be over six feet, and he’s wearing combat boots.