Page 35 of Ramsey & Emerson

When I’d gotten ready for school this morning, I’d done it intending to look unaffected by the attack yesterday. I had decided to put my hair up in a messy bun like I usually did. My makeup was the bare minimum per usual. I had put on my custom uniform button-up shirt and the matching skirt. My white sandals had survived the attack, even if they were scratched, so I had put those on like I always did.

I’d given myself a quick onceover in the mirror with all my injuries front and center. I looked like I’d been in a car wreck, and it fueled my resolve tonot cower in front of those people. I would walk down those hallways and sit in my classes with my head held high, reminding them of their evils.

I would not brush attempted rape under the rug.

Granted, I wasn’t going to bother with filing a police report because, if the police didn’t put in an effort to arrest a rapist in the poorest of neighborhoods, then they definitely weren’t going to do anything to rich people. However, I also wasn’t about to act like it hadn’t happened. I knew that it would be the poor, needy, trailer park trash’s word against three affluent, upstanding, popular Windsor students, but I didn’t care. I was also in no way confused about which side of the line Ramsey and Liam were on.

I got out of my car, then walked across the yard to the entrance of the school. I was halfway across the perfect manicured lawn when I felt Ramsey’s hand grab a hold of my arm, turning me around. I knew that it was Ramsey because I’d already committed his scent to memory. My body was also already trained to know when he was near. I couldfeelthe sonofabitch, and it made me hate him even more.

I yanked my arm out of his grasp, then looked up at him. I was ready to continue with my tongue lashing from yesterday, but the look on his face stopped me.

He looked absolutely wrecked.

Ramsey’s face was one of pure devastation as he looked at me. I stood there as his eyes took in my appearance, and a whirlwind of emotions battled in his russet-colored eyes. When his eyes returned to mine, he asked, “What are you doing here, Emerson?”

I turned my back on him, then kept walking.

I didn’t owe him an explanation.

I didn’t owe him shit.

Nonetheless, I didn’t get far. I had just made it inside the building when Ramsey had me up against the wall, very much like he’d had that first day of school.

I drew myself up to my full height, then snapped at him. “What do you fucking want?”

He stood in front of me with his muscular, corded, tanned arms crossed over his chest. “What are you doing here, Emerson? Why aren’t you at home resting?”

His voice sounded so sincere that I almost believed that he cared. “Did you really think that I’d be curled up on my bed, a crying mess, cowering from the world?”

I could see his chest rise in a deep, tortured breath. “No. I guess not,” he answered.

God, I was so mad at him.

So fucking mad.

Ramsey didn’t deserve an insight into my mind, but I was so mad that I couldn’t hold in all the things that were eating me alive. “I’m here because, even though nothing will happen to them, I will not let this school go about their days as if there aren’t rapists sitting in the classrooms, playing sports, or eating lunch, just as sweet as you please,” I spat at him.

I was past the reaction of flinching because of violence, so when Ramsey started punching holes in the wall next to my head, I didn’t shrink away or recoil. I stood my ground, then waited until he was done.

I noticed that the entire entrance was enrapt in complete silence at Ramsey’s loss of control, and if the rumors were true that Ramsey’s rage was ice cold, then this little display of heat was sure to make people stop and stare. It didn’t escape my attention that this was the second time that Ramsey’s pounded his fists into a wall while dealing with me either. Only, this time, the building was brick.

He flattened his hands against what was left of the wall on either side of my head, then leaned down to where only I could hear him. “I took care of it, Emerson,” he said, looking into my eyes. “I took care of those pieces of shit.” His chest was heaving, and I could tell that he was doing his best to temper his rage. “No one will ever touch you again.” Ramsey dropped his forehead to mine. “I swear to God, no one will ever touch you again.” He pulled back, then looked down at me. “No one but me, Emerson.”

My knees almost gave out, and my heart skipped several beats.

Shame like I’d never known coursed through my body.

I could feel the tingles in my nose, and also the pressure behind my eyes. I was so furious at myself for wanting to believe him. I was so disgusted with myself for wanting to believe that he’d known nothing about what Jamie had planned for me.

Worst of all?

I felt immense shame that I could still be turned on by his promises to be the only one to touch me. I had just been attacked in one of the worst ways possible, and it’d done nothing to deter my sick cravings for Ramsey Reed. So, maybe I deserved to be attacked. Maybe that was karma’s way of telling me that my desires were wrong, and that I was a bad person.

I shook out my thoughts, then focused on what I could control. “What do you mean, you took care of it?”

“You’ll never have to see them again, Emerson,” he answered. “And while they might not go to jail for what they did to you, I imagine it won’t be long before one or all of them puts a bullet through their head.”

Jesus Christ.

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