Page 72 of Married to the Frenemy

“Let me guess. Chase Longmire.”

Parker knew enough from reading reports on the infamous incident to know who I was purported to have been dating. In reality, the only reason I went out with him was to make my parents happy and keep them from becoming suspicious of my relationship with Beckham.

“His father was a member at the same country club as my dad,” I explain. “My parents didn’t find it the least bit unsettling that a twenty-five-year-old man who just finished grad school was interested in a girl who only turned eighteen a few weeks earlier. All they saw was a man from a wealthy and powerful family looking to settle down and get married, since it would help with his run for state representative.”

Parker rolled her eyes. “Fucking politicians.”

“Exactly.” I smooth a few tendrils of hair behind my ear. “So I went on the occasional date with Chase, making sure to be home before Beckham would sneak into my bedroom.”

“And Beckham was okay with it?” She arches a brow.

“I wouldn’t say he was okay with it. He understood why it had to be this way for the time being. At least until I went away to college. Then I’d have a bit more freedom. But one night…” I close my eyes, sucking in a shuttering breath, the memories so vivid and sharp it could have happened yesterday instead of fourteen years ago.

“It’s okay,” Parker reassures me, covering my hand with hers once more. “Take your time.”

I give her a grateful look before continuing, “One night, instead of going to dinner or a movie, as we usually did, Chase said he heard about a party he wanted to check out. I was a little nervous about this, considering Beckham mentioned hitting up a party that night, but we’d been careful. I convinced myself there was no way Chase would have found out about us.”

“Let me guess. The party Chase wanted to go to was the same party where Beckham was.”

I nod. “It wasn’t enough for Chase to simply show up with me. He made sure to have his hands all over me whenever Beckham was even remotely close. Especially the more he drank. At one point, I’d had enough of it and said I wanted to leave, then went onto the deck to find Beckham and ask if he’d drive me home since Chase was too drunk. But Chase followed me. Started screaming at me. Calling me names. Pushed me up against the wall and told me if I wanted to act like a whore, he’d treat me like one.”

“Jesus.”

“Luckily, I wasn’t the only one who was out there.”

“Beckham?”

“One second, Chase was lifting up my skirt, the next he was on the deck with a broken nose. And the next still, Beckham was on top of him, blood spraying everywhere. I didn’t know what to do. I’m glad he was out there to stop Chase, but I didn’t want him to kill him, which was exactly what it looked like he was about to do. So I ran toward him. Tried to get him to stop.” I swallow hard. “But he was in a trance and didn’t realize it was me. He pushed me away with such force that I broke the railing and fell onto the pavement below. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital bed with a doctor telling me my hipbone was shattered along with my femur. Said I was lucky I wasn’t paralyzed or dead.”

“And Beckham?”

“He pled guilty to two counts of aggravated assault and battery in exchange for only serving a year in prison instead of the potential ten-year sentence he was facing.”

“But why? He acted in your defense.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t want to take his chances. It wasn’t his first arrest for fighting. His lawyer probably saw the one-year sentence as a gift that he’d be crazy to turn down, especially considering the influence Chase’s parents held in this area.”

“And Chase? Did you ever tell anyone the truth about him?”

“I tried to tell my parents.”

“What did they say?”

“My mom told me I was just confused about what he was trying to do. I wasn’t fucking confused. I knew exactly what he was trying to do. But no one would listen. They were gaslighting me into believing Beckham was the one in the wrong, especially since everyone was of the opinion that Chase and I were dating.”

“That’s fucked.”

“Yes, it is.”

“And you’ve been blaming yourself ever since?”

I run my hands down the skirt of my sundress. “I suppose. If I’d just stood up to my parents, none of this would have happened. Instead, Beckham never got to go to college. Missed out on being there during his father’s last days.”

“Is this why you don’t want to get emotionally involved?” She furrows her brows, obviously confused. “Because you blame yourself?”

“There are also the letters.”

“Letters?”

---