Page 182 of Did They Break You

Chase leans back in his chair, his gaze hooded as he looks thoughtful, down at the table. “Yeah,” he says, sighing, “she was a fucking champ.” Those words come out with a bite that makes me tense. Then he adds, “But we didn’t really need her to.”

I tense, hands curled into fists on the table. “Why’s that?”

He shrugs, looking up at me. “We didn’t hurt Remi, Cortland.”

I sit up straighter, my heart pounding too hard in my chest as I try to breathe. Hearing him say it like that, so fucking cavalier, I don’t know… it just makes me want to see his blood splashed all over my goddamn kitchen floor.

I remember Dad hanging deer when we were growing up, out in a little shed beside the house, the innards falling out as he hung them by the head, a little different than some of his friends did. He said it was better that way, so everything didn’t get caught up in the chest cavity. My mom called the shed a “piece of shit,” and paid someone to bulldoze it down when Dad was on the road, so that didn’t last long.

But imagining Chase strung up by his fucking head, blood spilling down his body… yeah, I could do that right here, the shed be damned. I think I even have some rope in my truck.

I contemplate Storm’s words. About seeing a corpse. I think he was just fucking around, but now I glance at him, wondering if I want to see one too.

He arches a brow but says nothing.

I start thinking about that night again.

Remi’s tears.

“You know that, right?” Chase presses, bringing me back to this moment when he’s alive and whole and still fucking running his mouth.

I scrub my hand over the back of my neck, trying to act casual before I drop it back down to my lap. “Whatever makes you sleep better at night, buddy.”

His entire posture changes. He sits up a little taller, his spine rigid, his eyes narrowed, that playful, cocky smirk gone. “You’re saying wediddo what she said we did to her?” he questions me, his tone low. “Because I think I recall you asking her if she wantedmeto stop.” The corners of his mouth pull up into a cruel smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “And you remember what she said?”

My jaw hurts the way I’m gritting my teeth so hard, and it takes all my fucking effort to stay in my seat. This is why I play football. To get energyout.So I don’t fucking snap. If I didn’t have an outlet, I might’ve killed my mom a hundred times over by now.

And Chase too.

“She didn’t say a fucking thing.”Chase smiles at that, like him taking advantage of my girl is one of his fondest memories. “In fact, damn, Cortland, I know you got to make her bleed first but?—”

I stand to my feet before I even realize what I’m doing, the chair legs scraping against the hardwoods. “Get the fuck out of my house.” I think about the rifles at Dad’s place. Guns he had to fight with Mom to keep, but he couldn’t quite let go of all the hobbies she’d tried to strip from him. In the end, when their arguments got really heated, I think Mom might have actually been worried he was going to shoot her.

I kind of wish he had.

And now, I’ve got that gun in my truck, and I’m thinking I wouldn’t mind pulling the trigger, aiming it at Chase’s head.

Chase holds up both hands, but he doesn’t get up. “Woah, just calm down, Cort.” He pulls his brows together in a mock show of concern before he drops his hands flat to the table. “This isn’t like you. Has something got you all riled up?” Another twitch of his lips, like he’s trying to fight back a smile.

“Chase,” Storm says softly, still seated. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Cortland here has gotten a bit of a temper since that night.”

Chase turns to stare at Storm as he gives him the same warning he gave Maya, but I keep staring at Chase.

“And he’s kinda… volatile. I’d be careful what you say to him.In his own fucking house.”

“We all agreed we were gonna stay away from her,” Chase butts in, his temper coming out to play. But there’s desperation in his words, too, and I wonder why he’s so fucking concerned about this. Is it really his reputation he’s worried about?

“We didn’t agree on shit, Chase. And what I do in my free time is none of your fucking concern.”

“I disagree, Cort.” For the first time, I see his hands turn to fists at his side, knuckles on the table as he leans closer to it. To me. “You’re fucking with our futures here. Mine. Yours. Brinklin’s.Storm’s.”

Storm laughs softly. “I’m a dealer. I think my future is alreadyfucked.”He says those words with venom, and Chase glances at him, but then turns back to me.

He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath that pink fucking polo. “You don’t think the news isn’t gonna have a field day if they see the girl who accused us of rape is fucking you?” He points a finger my way and I want to break it. “You don’t think that’s gonna reflect poorly onus?”

“I don’t much give a damn how it reflects on you, Chase, if I’m being honest.”

He drops his hand, and his mouth opens. Then he laughs, shaking his head. After several tense moments, his fingertips grazing the table, he finally speaks again. “You know who your mom’s biggest client is, Cortland?”

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