P s i hate you, p.20
P.S. I Hate You, page 20
But I made a promise.
“Will you be here when I get back?”
With his back turned, he stares at the wall as if he can’t bear to see me walk away. “We’ll see, I guess.” He pauses before adding. “Have a great time. You deserve it.”
Voices echo from down the hall. I offer him one last look before opening the door and walking through.
“I thought you were wearing pink?” A blush tie looped around Troy’s neck disappears beneath a sleek black vest. The tux clings to his slender frame as if it were made for him. In all honesty, it probably was.
“Oh. Last-minute decision.” I still feel Jace’s hands on my body, the phantom memory of his cock pounding into me from behind as I let Troy drop a chaste kiss on my cheek.
“You look gorgeous regardless.” He holds up a snow-white lily. “This is for you.”
I click the roof of my mouth. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“Well, don’t just stand there. Put it on her,” Cindy scolds.
Troy’s goofy grin makes my chest hurt. I remind myself this isn’t a date, simply an act of friendship, but his energy twirls around me. It pulls me in, but still, I stave it off. My head shouts that he’s the right choice, but my heart knows better. I gave it to Jace, and he’s too damn stubborn to ever give it back.
Cindy snaps photos as Troy fixes the lily onto my wrist. Scuffling boots come through the front door. She cranes her neck as Dusty appears, holding an ivory rose. “Good, I’m not too late.”
“I’m glad you came.”
“Didn’t wanna miss it,” he says, handing me the flower. “I didn’t know what’s customary in this position …”
“It’s fine. Dusty, this is Troy, and you already know Cindy.”
“Uh, yeah.” He pulls her in for an awkward one-armed hug. Strange how easily one goes from friends to strangers. I imagine Dusty and Cindy spent a great deal of their young lives together only to nod in passing as adults.
“Good to see you, D,” Cindy says with a pat on his back.
We pose for a few more pictures before Troy ushers me out the door. The Rolls idles in front of the house, Troy’s driver jumping to attention when he sees us coming. He pulls open the door and guides me into the back seat. Alone, Troy and I sit side by side as I fiddle with my hem, hoping he doesn’t pick up the faint scent of Jace’s cologne in the fibers.
“Who’s that Dusty guy anyway?”
My belly flips. My mother went to great lengths to take that secret with her to the grave, but it’s also my truth. I never denied who I was, and I won’t start now. “He’s actually my dad.”
Troy’s eyes widen. “That mangy-lookin’ dude is your father?”
I scowl. “He’s not mangy. He works on cars all day out in the heat.”
He crinkles his nose. “I would have thought your mother had a little more class.”
I lean away. “You take that back, Troy McNamara, or else tell your man to turn the car around and take me right back home.”
He blanches. “You’re right. That was crass. I’m sorry.”
“Good. You should be.”
His hand covers my fist. “Can we just pretend I never said it?”
In the interest of our night together, I nod despite the fact that the damage is done.
A velvet carpet graces the entrance of Red Drum Country Club. We saunter in like royalty, Troy’s hand securely fastened at the small of my back as if asserting ownership over territory that isn’t his to claim. It’s okay. I can play to his crowd. I will be his for one enchanted evening, then we’ll go our separate ways.
Bodies grind on the dance floor, moving and swaying to the beat of the music pumping overhead. It isn’t long before we’re settled in a group. Troy’s friends and their dates take up a single table with two seats reserved. “That is a wild dress,” Robbie says as Troy pulls out my chair. “You’re like a forest fairy.”
I’m sure it wasn’t meant as a compliment, but I smile anyway. “Thanks. I made it.”
Troy laughs. “Sure.”
My cheeks grow hot. “No, I did. Well, I upcycled it anyway.”
He clips his brows. “I would have just given you money to buy one.”
“I don’t need your money, nor do I want it.”
A round of oohs waves around the table. Troy plasters on a wide grin. “Ellie deems herself some kind of fashion designer.” He rubs my shoulders, smothering the burn. “I’m gonna get us some punch.”
“I like it,” Robbie’s date—a girl dressed in tit-to-toe glitter—adds. I appreciate her attempt to lighten the mood, but I’ve already made the conscious effort to ignore Troy’s reprehensible commentary. He doesn’t mean to be offensive. He was bred into his way of thinking by similar-minded individuals.
Most of us go through life wearing blinders, knowing only that small station to which we were born. Up until recently, I was no exception. I sat atop my throne looking down on all those I deemed beneath me. But I was given a gift. The Wilders bestowed upon me the rare privilege of escaping my bonds, if only for a short time. Having seen how the other half lives, I can’t go back to my old ways. I’ve seen the world from an entirely new perspective, making me a better person.
A plastic cup comes down before me. Troy takes a seat and drops another kiss on my temple. I suppose he considered our last interaction and thought better of it after all. His gaze scans the room. Appeased with what he sees—or doesn’t see—he reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out a flask. He fills the remainder of his cup and stirs it with his finger. “You want?” he asks.
“Maybe later,” I say.
“Well, fuckin’ fill me up,” Robbie crows, pushing his half-empty cup of punch across the table.
Sweat begins to collect under my arms. Sober Troy is a sweet-and-sour combo I could totally handle, but Drunken Party Troy is an insufferable ass I want to beat with my shoe. He gets handsy when he’s drinking, and I don’t like it.
“It’s gonna be a long night. Let’s take it easy, okay?”
He snorts. “Who are you, my mother?”
Robbie raises his hand in a high five, and Troy meets him halfway. “Don’t worry, lil lady, I’ll make sure he makes it to the after-party.”
I lift a brow. “After-party?”
Troy gulps down his drink in a single sip. “Just a few friends at the house. No biggie.”
“So we’re going back to your house after this? Will your driver still be available to bring me home later?”
“Lighten up, El. We just got here. We’ll worry about all that later.” He pushes his chair back and stands. Pulling me up with him, he drags me to the dance floor.
Chapter twenty-one
Troy grossly underestimated the size of the after-party. The entire estate is crawling with people. Not only those who attended the prom but also kids I recognize from my own high school.
I stand alone at the edge of the property, nursing a beer while people strip off their suits and gowns and jump in the pool. I should have told him to take me home first, but I knew that wouldn’t have been an option.
“Hey.”
My blood runs cold. Darla stands mere footsteps away. I take a heavy gulp of liquid courage and press the cup against my racing heart.
She lifts her palms in surrender as she ambles toward me. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna fuck with you, okay? I gave Jace my word.”
I pull my brows together. “Jace?”
“Yeah. When he showed up at my house demanding I return that ring.”
Chills scamper up my spine. I rub my thumb across the diamonds, thinking back to that day. I lifted the bouquet and the ring fell out. At least, that’s what I thought. Was I wrong? If it was Jace who got it, then all this time he let me believe Troy was responsible. Why would he do that? Why didn’t he just give it to me himself?
“Yeah, so. I’m like, sorry, and shit,” she says.
I stand there stunned, regardless of her begrudging tone. It feels as though I’ve been punched in the gut. This simple act of gallantry was the reason I gave Troy a second chance to begin with. I thought deep down he was a good man who had my best interests at heart. Turns out, I gave him far too much credit. It was Jace all along.
“You gonna puke or somethin’?”
I lift my gaze to hers. “No. I’m fine. Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t get all weepy and shit. We ain’t gonna be friends.” She pauses to take a drink, then adds, “But I do like that dress.”
The corner of my mouth curls up. “Thanks. I like your shorts.”
She shoves her hand into one of the deep set leather pockets. “I got them today. Boots n’ Bangles has this new rack of designer shit.”
It takes all the willpower I have not to squeal. She doesn’t need to know I’m the secret mastermind behind the designer shit. I know, and that’s enough for me. I bite down on my bottom lip to hold in my grin. “I’ll have to check it out.”
She leans in closer and whispers under her breath. “Don’t look now, but your boyfriend’s wasted.”
I follow her gaze as Troy staggers toward me. His shirttails hang untucked, his jacket and vest nowhere in sight. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” The stink of booze wafts off his breath. I turn my head, but he falls against me, wiping his wet lips against my cheek.
Darla giggles. “Have fun,” she says, sauntering away.
“You’re hammered.” His attempt to wave me off results in a vicious wobble. I grab him by the shirt to hold him steady. “Maybe you should lie down.”
I link my arm around his waist, but the weight of him bearing down is too much for my five-foot frame to traverse the football field of a yard. The pool house is just a few tottering steps away.
“You’re so hot,” he mumbles as we topple onto the couch.
“Sleep it off, Troy.”
But he pulls me back as I try to get up. “Don’t go yet.”
“It’s late, and I have a headache.”
“I got a cure for that.”
He lurches forward, knocking me to my back. I jerk up, but he pushes me down and awkwardly starts kissing my jaw.
“Troy. Stop,” I say with conviction.
He doesn’t listen. Instead, he weaves himself between my thighs and bends his legs, locking me in place. “C’mon, El. You made me wait so long.” He slobbers on my neck, rocking his pelvis. “Are you scared it’s gonna hurt?”
My pounding pulse makes my head feel dizzy. I flail my arms, but he catches them in his large hands and tucks them under his knees. I am fighting a battle I can’t possibly win. Troy is trained in MMA. He has been learning how to restrain opponents for years. I’m stuck on my back like a turtle on its shell, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “Let me up.”
“No. Just stay. Stay a little while.”
“Troy.” My firm voice begins to wobble when his hand feels its way between my thighs. Jace’s accusations come rushing back. Pam Mackey, Rhonda Fortnight, Tracy Givens ... the girls he forced himself on, the girls his daddy paid off to keep it quiet. “Don’t.”
“I’ll be quick,” he slurs, fumbling for my panties. “You’re so scared, so fucking scared of everything.”
I wrestle beneath him, yelling for help, but the music beyond the door is so damn loud. Tears spring to my eyes. I resist his advance, burrowing my backside into the seam between the cushions.
“Please,” I beg. “Please don’t do this.”
“Stop fighting me.” He lifts his butt in the air to open his fly. “I did my fucking time. I was a good guy. I deserve something for my efforts.”
The shaft of his erection slips between my folds. Panic rises in my throat followed by a screeching.
“I want your virginity, Ellie. We can do it the hard way or the easy way.”
A peal of laughter rips through my cries. “I don’t have it anymore.”
His palm sinks into the couch as the other hand shoves two fingers inside me. “What the fuck?”
He sways enough to loosen my arm. I pull it free and push him off. He rears back just long enough for me to roll to the floor. Pain jolts through my leg at the contact, but I can't afford to waste any time. I scramble across the floor to put enough distance between us, but Troy’s movement is quicker. A strong hand yanks my ankle; my face hits the floor. “Where ya goin’, huh?”
He drags me back. I sink my elbow in his soft underbelly with all my might. Red rage clouds his face as he stands, clutching his stomach. “I knew it! You just couldn’t wait to wrap those skinny legs around Wilder, could ya?”
His fingers tangle in my hair. He drags me by the scalp and hurls me back onto the couch face-first. One of my shoes lies lost in the pillows. I snatch it up and launch it in his direction. “When you kissed my mouth, I hope you tasted his cum¸ you son of a bitch.”
He jumps back to avoid getting hit, but his long arm sweeps across and takes hold of my wrist. “You teasing little whore.” His fist comes down, and my head snaps back hard. Stars collide beneath my lids. Blinding pain radiates my skull, and I crumple like tissue.
The muffled music grows suddenly clear. “We’re using this room,” Troy barks.
A dark figure stands in the open doorway. I rip myself off the floor and barrel past whoever it is and don’t stop until I’m safely on the street. The tears return as my adrenaline wanes. My face on fire, my muscles trembling. I pluck my phone from my wristlet and dial.
Jace answers on the first ring.
The words are barely out of my mouth before I hear the telltale sounds of his truck starting. He keeps us connected as I weep into the mouthpiece, his deep voice assuring me he’s almost there up until the moment his headlights come into view.
I shuffle to my bare feet as he runs toward me. “You’re okay,” he promises, wrapping me against him for just a moment before holding me out at arm's length. Two fingers catch under my chin. He turns my face toward the light, his concerned gaze morphing into an evil glare. “Did he do this to you?”
The tinny taste of blood dribbles into my mouth as I nod. I snivel it back, rubbing it away with the back of my hand.
Jace trembles with poorly contained feral rage. “Wait here.”
“No, don't. It’s okay.”
“No, it ain’t,” he growls, stomping toward Troy’s house. “Get in the truck.”
Inside the cab, I will my rioting heart to slow. Minutes pass like hours. I want to go in and make sure he’s okay, but my legs won’t let me move. So I wait. Staving off the nausea swirling in my gut and the hammering headache assaulting my brain.
Then like the archangel coming to save my soul, he saunters through the yard angry yet unscathed. The breath I didn’t know I was holding trickles from my lungs. He hops in beside me and slams the door.
“What happened?”
He peers in the rearview before pulling a K-turn in the middle of the road. “It’s handled.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “What did you do?”
“I handled it.” His gruff tone brings up another round of bubbling emotion. I turn toward the window to hide it, but his fingers wrap around my hand. “Did he …?”
He trails off, a crack in his voice cutting through the question.
“No.” I semi-lie, but I’d rather pretend I don’t still feel his fingers invading my body. I don’t want to be another victim. I don't want Jace to look at me as if I’m tainted. I just want to go home and put it behind me.
A heavy breath leaves his lungs. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”
My lips tremble. “No.” This would be his I told you so moment. He warned me about Troy, but I didn’t want to believe it. I chalked it up to townie gossip and innate jealousy. Two alpha dogs cutting each other down in their pursuit to be number one.
I brace myself for his vicious attack, but instead, he tightens his grip and stares ahead. “Let’s just get you home.”
Once inside, he brings me to his room and sits me down on his bed. Shame hunches my shoulders. I can’t bring myself to look at him as he unzips my torn dress and helps me out of it.
“Wait here.” He disappears through the doorway, then returns with a bowl of water and a towel, a bag of frozen peas under his arm. “This should help the swelling,” he instructs, placing the peas over my cheek. I cover my hand in his, but he slips it away and kneels beside the bed.
“Darla told me you’re the one who got my ring back.”
Without reply, he dips the edge of the towel in the bowl, then brings it to my neck, but I raise my hand to stop him.
“Why did you let me believe it was Troy?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I didn’t do it for the glory. I just wanted to see you happy. Now just lie back.”
No more words pass between us as he gently scrubs every inch of me from top to bottom. The cool water wipes away all traces of Troy’s kisses, his fingerprints, his presence on my burning skin until I’m free of the filth. When he’s finished, he steals a tee from his drawer and stretches it over my head.
Dressed and bathed, I curl on my side. The clean scent of detergent mingling with the whisper of cologne wafts around me like a comforting hug. The fragrance of Jace, the smell of safety, comfort, and home.
The tips of his fingers graze the tender flesh on my face. A hiss pulls through my teeth. “I shouldn't have let you go. I thought without a dress you’d have to cancel, but I misjudged your drive to succeed.”
I open my eyes and meet his intense stare. “There wasn’t much you could’ve done to stop me. This isn’t your fault.”
He glides my hair behind my ear. “I convinced myself that he was a better match for you. His wealth and his power could give you anything you want.”
“Not anything,” I whisper, skimming my thumb over his lips.
He puckers his mouth with a soft kiss. “I knew I’d never be good enough for you. I was ready for some spoiled bitch to walk off that plane, but I was nowhere ready for you. The second I saw you, I was done.”
