Page 26 of Scored

“You don’t fucking touch her,” Stefan growls, shaking Trey like a rag doll. “You. Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Her.”

“Stefan—”

“Not now,” he grits out. “Not fucking ever. But definitely not after she says no.”

And with that, he shoves Trey away, looks over at me, eyes sparking with fire. “Let’s go,” he snaps. But his hand is gentle when he bends and wraps it around my arm, when he coaxes me up to my feet.

“Brit—”

I freeze at the sound of Trey’s voice, turning slowly.

He looks like a confused puppy, unsure of why he just got scolded for chewing a shoe.

“I told you no,” I say, watching as his expression changes…

As a thread of something I don’t like—irritation, defiance, frustration—weaves across his face. “You liked it.”

“No,” I tell him. “I didn’t like it and I didn’t want it.” Stefan’s fingers tighten on my arm and I pull my gaze away from Trey’s, look up at my ex-husband.

“Let’s go,” he says, and it’s softer now.

Because I know he gets what I’m feeling, understands exactly which memories are clambering at the edges of my mind, making my hands shake and my legs feel weak.

So…I go with him.

I let him hold my arm as he guides me down the path, away from that big, warm rock and the late afternoon sunshine, down into the thick cover of the oak trees, their leaves rustling the only sound other than the crunch of our shoes on the rocky trail.

I let him stay close until the parking lot comes into sight, the dark brown fence posts surrounding it visible above the tall, dry grass. There’s a large cattle gate across the main entrance and I pull out of Stefan’s hold, move to the gate and push it open.

He hesitates for a moment, jaw tight, body still, then he shakes his head slightly and follows me through. “Where’s your car parked?” he asks as we start across the gravel.

“I—”

Here I do something stupid.

I falter.

I freeze.

I don’t have a lie at the ready.

And he takes one look at my face and knows it. “You rode with him.”

My lungs expand, shoulders lifting and falling on a breath. “First time.”

Silence except for the wind.

Then he shakes his head, starts moving toward his car. He bleeps the locks, pulls open the door. “I’ll drive you home.”

Eleven

Stefan

I’m a fucking idiot.

I shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t have intervened between her and that asshole—not for the reasons I had, anyway.

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