Page 103 of Lyrical

He sat back at the edge of the bed, hands in his hair like he wanted to rip it out in clumps. The foulest taste came into the back of my throat, and I felt myself gag. I trusted him, but what if something happened? What if he was there to make a confession? No. That was fucking ridiculous.

“What’s wrong?” he said, tossing his phone across the bed. It slid against my leg. “What’s wrong is sitting here waiting for you to wake up and tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“Chase?” My head had been murky before, but now it was submerged in swamp water. “Going on with what? And why do you sound so upset?”

His fingers resumed their place against his scalp. “Take a look, Jillian. Then explain to me why I’m so fucking upset. Because I’d sure as hell love to know that answer too.”

I picked up his phone, starting to seriously question if this was all a dream, when my eyes took in the picture covering his screen. My brain couldn’t even process it yet. I simply just stared for a minute like it was a video moving in slo-mo. The pieces began linking together one by one, and by the time it all coalesced, I was practically puking on the floor.

“Chase, I….”

I what? What the fuck was I supposed to say? Because it looked bad. Really, really bad. He got up and started pacing the room. I could tell his head was thumping just as badly as mine by the way he smashed his palms into the sides.

“It was a misunderstanding, Chase. They were strippers and… and they weren’t supposed to be there. It’s not what it looks like.”

How fucking idiotic did that sound?It’s not what it looks like. The most famous fucked-up words ever. But in my case, it was true. I scrambled to turn my messed-up thoughts into something meaningful. Something he’d understand and believe. Because he had to believe me. He had tobecause it was all fucking true.

He stopped and faced me. “Then what exactly is it, Jillian? Because to me, it looks like you’re getting undressed by two naked men in a fucking hotel room and you’re enjoying the fuck out of it.”

I reached down and pulled up my little wastebasket. I was going to be sick, no doubt about it.This is bad, this is bad, this is bad.

My body started to rock a bit like I was in the mental ward.Think, Jillian. Fucking think already and use that goddamned brain of yours.I forced myself to look at the picture again. My dress was lifted up to my waist, the men were pressed against me wearing nothing but these fucking little Speedo things, and the bed was right behind us. The expression on my face was the worst of all. It must have been during a yell, but the camera had captured it like a laugh. The way my head was back and…. God, help me, it did look like I was enjoying it.

Wait a fucking minute. A picture? How in the fuck was there a picture? For the first time since seeing the image, I noticed there was a caption to go along with it:

I guess any young, hard body will do.

The blood rushed to my head so fast and strong I feared an aneurysm. All my desperation turned to pure, hot anger. “Chase,” I said calmly, the tone of my voice deceiving compared to the tornado ripping through me. “Did Cassie send this to you?”

“Does it really matter who sent it?”

“Yes, it fucking matters,” I screamed.

Well, that self-restraint lasted long. I wondered if Daniel was home. Then decided I didn’t care. This needed to be dealt with right here, right now, and if I couldn’t control myself, I didn’t care about that either.

“If you’re going to accuse me of something, the least you can do is give me all the details.”

He blew out a loud breath. His fists lost color. I understood the raw frustration, the pain. How much he’d probably bled since first seeing it. I’m surprised he was still standing. If the situations were reversed, I’d be throwing things, and I didn’t even feel jealousy as deeply as him.

“Did. Cassie. Send. This?”

“Yes.”

“Chase, I need you to sit down and listen to me.” God, he looked like crap, and that was a pretty impressive feat for him to accomplish. “Please. Now sit down.” I was seething. We should not be in this predicament. This was not a conversation we should ever been having.

“Give me a fucking minute, Jillian.”

One, two, three...I ticked off in my head.Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty. Minute over.

“Dammit, Chase, I said please. I’m unbelievably pissed off right now but not at you. Even still, I’ll likely do a lot of screaming,especially if you don’t sit your ass down and listen to me.”

He sat at the edge of the bed, dropping his head in his hands. I guessed him to be extremely hungover, and all this shit was about fifty dozen extra nails to the back of the skull.

“Cassie set me up, Chase. I haven’t had the chance to figure out exactly how yet, but she did. No question. I was completely sober last night and remember everything. She admitted to hiring those strippers, and I was tricked into letting them into my room. That’s my own damn stupid fault, but that’s the only part I played in this. It all happened so fast. I’m amazed she was even able to get a picture. That look on my face? I was screaming at them to get the fuck off me. And that guy to the right? I think I made him sterile.”

“Where was Perry through all this?” he asked quietly after what seemed like an eternity.

“She was sick. Not drunk-sick, but sick-sick. Most of the night she was sleeping. She was out cold when this happened.”

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