Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series) (36 page)

I wonder what he’s told her to make her that angry with me. Did he think I started sleeping with Ransom right after he … did that to me? Betrayed me like that? I know I’ve done some awful things. Hell, I’m the first person to admit how fucked-up I am, but he of all people should know I’m better than that. And he’s not completely innocent here. I tried to warn him away. I didn’t even choose my college until after he picked his, hoping that would drive a wedge through our messed up connection.

Who am I trying to kid? I’d sunk my hooks so deeply into him he’d never stood a chance. I can sit here and try to justify it until the cows come home, but the truth of the matter is, I’ve brought all this on myself.

I shriek as the truck door suddenly flies open, but I breathe a sigh of relief when I see an angry Ransom staring me down. “What the hell?” he grinds out. Before I can utter a syllable, he rages on, “You scared the shit out of me. I come out here to check on you and find groceries all over the ground and you nowhere in sight. What the hell?” he repeats.

“I …” My voice is shaky to my own ears, so I try again. “I dropped the bags—”

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“Same thing as usual,” I quip. My lip burns when I smile.

“No, it’s red. Is your lip busted?”

“Yeah … I bent down to pick up everything, and when I came back up, I rammed my face into the side mirror.”
That’s believable, right?
Those things are massive and unforgiving. “I just sat down for a minute to get my bearings.”

His fingertips graze my smarting cheekbone as he studies me. “That’s gonna leave a bruise. C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

Chapter Thirty

Ransom

M
Y
L
ITTLE
F
IGHTER
had done well this week. Her nightmares were still there, but she was getting easier to wake up from them and didn’t fight me as much. I think it’s me that’s not doing so hot. Constantly holding her, knowing I shouldn’t want to take her and make her mine while she’s dealing with all that she’s dealing with—it makes me feel like a pervert. I’d thought of just taking care of myself, but I know I wouldn’t be able to resist using her image, and that’s fucked too. So by Friday, I’m a little snappier, a little short in temper. She called me on it too. I told her I was tired and stressed out and would try to stop being a jerk. She told me she wouldn’t have me any other way. That made me laugh my ass off.

It’s Friday evening, and we had a quick dinner. I can tell everyone is bored, but I fail to come up with anything creative because my mind is elsewhere.

“Let’s go the movies,” Maggie blurts out.

Denver and I both groan. She has a hard time sitting still for any length of time, and I’m not going to sit in the dark next to her while feeling this on edge. No fucking way.

“Come on, y’all. It’ll be fun,” Maggie cajoles. “We haven’t left this apartment all week except for classes and working the horses.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Pete coos at her.

“So fucking whipped,” I sneer.

“So fucking jealous,” he quips.

“Whatever,” I mutter. “Denver, movies?”

“I guess,” she says with a shrug.

Perfect. I need some time away from her. “Y’all go to the movies. I’m gonna go out.” I pretend not to notice her face drop. I call Pete back to my room and give instructions for watching out for her before I go.

I
DON’T GO
far. There’s a party in the apartment building next door. And it’s perfect since there are no rodeoers here. Our group is tight-knit, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything, but sometimes it’s suffocating.

After a couple of beers, a little brunette with shy, blue eyes approaches me. We chat for a while. I ascertain the things I need to know about her—she’s no virgin, she’s no slut, she’ll leave shortly after, and she’ll keep her mouth shut.

When I tell her what I’m interested in, what I’ll do, what I won’t do, she blushes, but readily agrees.

Lacing her fingers through mine, I lead her back to my apartment.

Denver

I
BARELY OPEN
my eyes when I hear the door open. I glance at the clock; it’s too early for Maggie and Pete to back. It must be Ransom. I wait a minute for him to come to the bedroom before I stretch and go to the door. As my hand turns the knob, I hear two voices, and that female one is definitely not Maggie. I cringe, and my stomach instantly knots. I know this whole “my girl” thing is an act. I know it is. But that’s not helping, and I want out of this apartment. Right now. There’s no way I can listen to that.

Slipping on my shoes and throwing a hoodie over my head, I ease the door open, hoping to quietly slide past them. I move out into the hall, but I’m too late for a quiet escape.

I retrace my steps and edge the door closed before I collapse against it. I’ll never get that image out of my head. Her lying there naked, her arms stretched above her head, her legs spread before him. Him standing over her, devouring her with his eyes. I picture him getting her worked up and slipping inside her, and it makes my stomach turn. I’m jolted from my living nightmare when I hear her moan his name. I kick off my shoes and dive for the bed but can’t get the pillows over my head before I hear her call out his name twice more.

After a while, I remove the pillows and listen intently. I don’t hear anything more for a few minutes before I hear the front door close and then the shower running. That’s when I lose it.

Ransom

I
TOWEL OFF
and stare at myself in the mirror, hating that I needed that release, but glad that I got it. I’ll be much better at helping her without feeling constantly on edge. I don’t kid myself in thinking that the little fix I just had will stave off my craving or my ache for her, but this should buy me some time.

A glutton for punishment, I find myself wondering again if she’d ever be up to exploring anything with me. I know I’m supposed to care about all that other shit, and despite the fact that I made a promise to myself, she overrides it all. It surprises the hell out of me.

If she’s willing to give that up to be with me, I’m willing to overlook her past and be hers. And if anything, she’s proven time and time again that she is the perfect woman for me in every other way. I just have to get her to see that she doesn’t need all those other guys if she’s got me.

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I make my way to my room to get some clean clothes. I open my door and the slim shaft of light lands on the lump in my bed, facing the wall. What the fuck? The blonde hair that I’ve spent countless hours running my hand over splays out over my pillows, and my jaw hardens. Stepping back into the hall, I pull the door closed quietly before stumbling back to the living room. What the fuck? Why the fuck is she here? I start to sit but change my mind and cross the hall to Pete’s door. I knock, nothing. Opening the door, I see they’re not here.

I shoot a text to him. Sitting on the couch, I put my head in my hands and curse him. I told him I didn’t want her alone. I told him she wasn’t ready for that, and he’d left her anyway.

Then I curse myself for leaving her. This wasn’t Pete’s fault. She isn’t his responsibility. She’s mine.
Mine.
I punch my palm several times before my phone buzzes.

Said she didn’t want to be a third wheel and was tired. We tucked her in tight before we left. No worries, boss.

No worries? She probably heard me fucking around with another girl. She didn’t need to hear that. I don’t want her to think … what? That I couldn’t keep it in my pants after what she just experienced? My mind races over everything I did to that girl, and I think about every moan, every groan, every time she called my name. There’s no way she didn’t hear. She’d have to have been comatose. This place is tiny, and the walls are paper-thin.

Time to stop being a pussy and go check on her.

I ease back into the room, slip some pajama bottoms on, and crawl in bed with her. I hesitate for a moment before curling into her. After I listen to her breathe for a minute, I whisper, “Say something.”

Her breath catches and she sniffs. Hell. I’m in hell. “I have no right to feel hurt,” she whispers, a voice thick with tears.

I squeeze my eyes tight, wishing I could undo the whole night. It should have been enough to sit with her tonight, to take her the movies, to crawl in bed with her and talk until we dozed off like we had all week. “Turn around,” I rasp before clearing my throat.

Edging up on her elbow, she spins, and I wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here. I never would have—”

“It’s OK … really. I’m fine. It’s just …”

I wait for her to finish that statement. Tell me that she wants me like I want her. Tell me it made her sick for me to be with another girl. My blood boils, and my whole body tenses when I think of how I would’ve felt if she were with another guy while I lay in the next room. I’d have torn this fucking place to shreds.

“Just what?” I finally prompt. I need her to take my mind off her with another guy. Yeah, I’m a selfish bastard.

“I was jealous.” My blood thunders in my ears. “I just wonder if, I mean, when I’ll ever want to be with someone again. When I think of being with someone now, my whole body protests. And I hate it. I hate it!” She wants to be with someone again. Not me.
Someone
. I have to force that bitter pill down before I can speak.

I strive to give advice in a neutral tone. “When you’re ready, you will want it. You won’t run from it. You’ll know when it’s right. And maybe this is your chance to … undo some of the past.” That sounds like a bunch of bullshit, but it’s the best I’ve got because …
someone
. Might as well have said anyone.

“But … you wouldn’t understand,” she mumbles.

That kind of pisses me off. “Has there been anything I haven’t understood yet?” I demand, a little rougher than I meant to.

“No,” she squeaks.

“Then try me.”

It dawns on me, as I wait for her to confide in me, that she’s not touching me. I’ve got myself wrapped around her like a second skin, and she’s not touching me. She’s got that pose, that fighter’s stance, my little fighter. All the progress I’ve made with her, effectively erased with one selfishly stupid move on my part.

“You’re not gonna like it,” she finally whispers. “But I’m afraid I’ll never want to be touched again. That terrifies me because I’ve come to rely on it.” She shifts a little. “The sex. I used sex to forget everything. Hearing you … it made me remember all that I’ve been trying to forget. It came on full-force. It rushed over me like an avalanche, and I was buried under the weight of it, starving for oxygen and light. That’s what sex gave me … an out. It infused me with oxygen and light for a while so that I didn’t think about the darkness, the suffocation. I’m scared I’m never going to want it again. And I’m terrified that if I don’t, I’ll be consumed. That’s why I did what I did. The sex with no strings. The other stuff … the love and the commitment … I don’t deserve those things. But I need the oblivion, the peace.”