RAMSAY.

My clothes were dry, and my hair was almost dry. I’d been given a proposition in the most matter-of-fact way I could’ve imagined.

I wanted to go home.

But we needed to call Gem’s cousin, and we also needed to get past Kira and her friends, who were sitting in the kitchen.

Scout had left when Gem gave me my clothes so I could dress.

I was dressed.

I still hadn’t left the room.

I didn’t know why.

There was a sudden knock, the door opened, and Scout’s head pushed in. He frowned at me. “What are you doing?”

Suddenly, I was exasperated and threw my hands in the air. “I have no idea! No clue. Not one fucking clue, Scout.” I said his name.

He got a weird look on his face.

I’d never said his name before.

I turned, starting to pace, and when I looked back, Scout had come into the room. The door was shut. His back was leaning against it, and he tilted his head to the side, a hand going into his pocket. Scout was the image of badass, cool, and hot all rolled into one.

I was suddenly sick of that too.

“You’re annoying.”

His head moved back, his eyebrows rising. “What?”

“Annoying. You say all this shit when I’m wearing nothing but a towel, and you do it here, in a house where I’m not friends with this girl. I don’t know if I even want to be friends with this girl, but here you are. Why did you come tonight? Kira said you never come to these things.”

“Cohen wanted to fuck her. He doesn’t now.” He shrugged. “We won’t be coming again.”

That made so much sense. Perfect sense.

I threw my hands in the air again and paced in a circle.

The phone. The text.

The picture.

My dad.

God. My dad. How he looked . . .

I knew when that picture was taken, and I knew who took it. There was only one person who could’ve—“Did Alex tell you why I moved here? My mom and I.”

The confusion left him, and something more serious took its place. Darker. He leaned forward slightly, slowly. “Something happened with your ex. There was a bully situation. Something like that.”

“My dad? Did he say anything about him?” My voice was hurting. Rasping. I felt as if I were choking from the inside out.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “Just that he’s not in the picture anymore. I assumed there was a nasty divorce.”

Divorce.

Right.

“My dad was assaulted, and the night that happened, someone took a picture of him. That’s what got sent to me tonight.”

He jerked forward. “Are you serious?” He started for me.

I stepped back from his intensity, from the moment, from what I was feeling twisting inside me. “Yeah.”

“That’s fucked up, Ramsay.”

Ramsay. He said my name.

I didn’t know why I was fixating on that right now, why that was important to me, but it was.

I liked hearing him say my name.

“Will you give us a ride home?” My voice was so soft I almost didn’t hear myself.

I felt so small in that moment.

Tiny.

Like I didn’t want to exist.

I wasn’t looking at him, but I heard his rough, “Yeah.” He coughed, speaking more clearly, “Yeah. I can do that.”

I still didn’t look at him. I didn’t know why. Another item on the list of things that didn’t make sense to me, but I nodded in response to him, and he opened the door.

I went through it.

He followed for a step or two before going around me and saying to Cohen, “We’re taking off.”

I blinked a few times, trying clear my vision. Cohen was leaning against a counter in the kitchen, his arms crossed. His legs too. Kira was next to him, her hands behind her on the counter, as if she were doing reverse push-ups. Ciara was on the island, her legs swinging. Gem was behind her, sitting on a stool, a guy next to her, and their heads were bent together. Gem was giggling.

I let that wash over me. I liked hearing that.

But at Scout’s no-nonsense bark, Gem’s head jerked up. The laughter died when she saw me, concern filling it. Cohen didn’t react except nod and push up from the counter.

Ciara chirped, waving a hand, “Nice seeing you tonight!”

Kira cast her a frown before coming over. “You okay?”

I nodded, not quite staring at her. I focused between her eyes, and she seemed appeased by that because her shoulders lowered and she nodded to herself before bending and whispering, “Did you guys . . . you know . . . do it?”

Jesus.

Of course that was what they’d think.

I swallowed tightly and shook my head. “No. We were talking about Alex.”

She angled her head back, getting a better look at me. “Serious?”

Of course she didn’t believe me. I nodded, trying to let her see I was telling the truth. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Your hair is wet.”

Shit again. “I kinda had a freak out. It’s—family stuff. Scout knows cause of Alex, but no one else.”

Understanding clicked, and I saw the relief flash in her eyes. “Gotcha. I’m so sorry.”

“Williams.” Cohen made a motion before turning and gently pushing Gem out the door. Scout had already gone out. I picked up my pace because when they said they were leaving, they meant they were leaving. There was no lingering behind for goodbyes. Good to know.

Gem waited for me outside, hitting my side and staying there. “You okay?” she whispered, her hand finding mine and squeezing it.

I didn’t have the heart to lie, but I didn’t want to tell her the truth. “I’m okay.” That was all I could manage.

“You sure?”

I nodded, giving her a smile. “Some family stuff just popped up for me. I’ll be okay, though. I mean it.”

“You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know.” I really did. I felt it in that moment. Maybe it would pass. Maybe I’d go back to not trusting anyone but family, but in that moment, I really did feel like I could tell Gem everything. I just didn’t because I didn’t want to crumble. Not tonight, not more than I already had. “Thank you.”

She stopped and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tight. “I’m here for you.”

I stood, surprised, until slowly, my arms lifted and I hugged her back. “Thank you.”

Gah. I was a mess.

Who was I? I didn’t remember this Ramsay. I used to be like Kira, top girl in the grade. No sad emotions like this, and here I was, choking back some tears because a girl who liked me, declared we were friends was now hugging me, telling me she had my back.

Seriously. I needed Clint time. I needed to remember the thrill of getting in trouble again. I needed to toughen up again.

A high-pitched whistle sounded. Scout was there in his truck, his window down, his arm resting outside and he was not amused. “Let’s go!”

Cohen was in the back, and he was grinning from behind Scout.

Gem giggled, skipping over to them and she climbed into the back by Cohen.

I got in the front, sitting stiffly, but he didn’t seem to care as he took off.

We dropped Gem off first, and Cohen was right after. Almost literally because he climbed out behind Gem, after the two had been shoving each other in the back the whole ride over. Both were laughing, and if I’d been questioning if they knew each other, that would have been put to rest. The two were giving off siblings-who-were-crazy-about-each-other vibes. Gem had pinched Cohen in the chest and he reciprocated by tickling her, which had her shrieking, but still laughing shrieking.

It was contagious. By the time they left, I was pulled out of my mood until the door closed behind Cohen, and yeah.

I remembered.

Everything else left me because I was choking again, but choking from the past. Choking from the future. Choking from what brought me here. Choking from what could come and get me. “You live in the old Catering house, right?”

I had no idea what that meant, but nodded. “Sure. Yeah.”

I was quiet on the way to my place, and when he pulled into my driveway, the house was dark. I’d not checked my phone, but it was past midnight by now. My mom had probably stayed for a double shift.

“Your mom’s asleep?”

I laughed, an ugly laugh. “She’s working.”

He glanced my way.

I felt his question, though he didn’t say a word.

And somehow, for some reason, that unfolded me. I wanted to tell him.

I wanted to tell someone.

But why him?

Why him?

“You’re living with your uncle?” The words gutted out of me. Abrupt. I didn’t know I was going to say them until I said them.

“Yeah.”

“Why? What happened with your family?” I looked his way and found him slightly frowning at me. There were dark shadows over his face, but it was night. Dark. The moon was out. The shadows made sense. Still. It seemed more with him, like he was supposed to be in the shadow. That thought made something want to crinkle up inside me and disappear. He was hiding when I didn’t want to, when I was tired of hiding.

But it was momentary.

I’d have a clear head tomorrow.

“Daydream” from Lily Meola came on the radio at that moment, and I almost laughed because how appropriate. He reached forward, turning it down, and how appropriate was that gesture too?

“Not really getting why you’re bringing up my family?”

Of course that was his response.

I nodded, facing forward, still not moving to reach for the door, to leave the vehicle.

I couldn’t for some reason.

But that was a lie. I knew the reason.

“Is your dad alive?”

“Not your business, Williams.”

“Your mom?” I didn’t care. I kept asking. I needed to know.

I had to know before I could say mine. A tit for a tat. It only made sense to me.

I needed him to give a little, and then I could say.

And I needed to say. I needed to share.

It was killing me.

“Also none of your business.”

“Why are you living with your uncle?”

“Still none of your fucking business—” He was growling.

I didn’t care. “My ex beat me.”

He quieted.

I added into the silence, “He beat me. He stalked me. He did everything a controlling abusive asshole does, and I stayed with him.” Another beat.

My heart felt like it was breaking.

I kept on. “I lied for him. I made excuses for him. I told myself he’d change. I told myself it was a phase and that I needed to love him through it. I was lying to myself.”

There was no radio on.

He didn’t say a word.

I didn’t either.

He’d be the first person outside of my mom or the police who I told. I hadn’t even told my cousins. Mom did that deed for me.

“His family owned Cedra Valley. They owned the police. They owned everyone and everything, and still, there I was. In the police station. Beaten. Bloody. And making a report to try to keep him away from me. Guess how much good that did for me?”

I looked now, still seeing his face in shadow and really hating it.

I was stepping forward. The least he could do was look at me, let me see he was looking at me, but then he did.

He moved forward, shifting so I could see him, and he was right there.

He was watching me.

There was no sadness in him.

No anger.

No disbelief.

Not even resignation. It was as if he’d heard this story before—or, at least, a version of this story with different characters.

He was watching me like he always did. Waiting.

“He broke me. I still feel that. He did that to me, and here you are, not caring what I’m about to say to you. I think that’s the only reason I want to say it, to say it to someone. Someone who doesn’t care. Someone I can unburden myself to, and it won’t matter to them.” A tear broke free, the first of so many that I’d never let fall. This one fell. This one, I let fall. “My ex beat me. I already told you that, but I didn’t tell you what else he took from me. One night I couldn’t hide what he did. Guess what my father did? Because he was a good man. Not everyone gets a good dad. I did. I got a great dad, and because he was a great dad . . . because I couldn’t hide the bruises from him anymore, he went there. To my ex’s place. He knocked on the door. He told Max to stay away from me. He told him to stay out of my life, that I would be nothing to him. Do you know what my ex did?”

Another tear. This one ran down the side of my face, all on its own volition.

“He shot my dad.”

I stared forward, just reciting.

“On his home’s doorstep, he took out a gun, shot my dad, and beat him. When my dad stopped breathing, that was when he called 911. He knew it was too late. He took away my father because he was told that he couldn’t keep kicking a toy that he liked to kick. That’s why I lost my father. That’s why we moved here.”

There. It was done. It was out.

I’d told someone else.

Wasn’t I supposed to feel better?