Page 208 of Did They Break You

Only to see Chase fucking McGowan in his Dad’s Suburban.

He’s got the window rolled down, his arm over the door and he’s smirking at me, one hand on the wheel. He stops in the middle of the fucking street, and I do, too, turning to face him.

And I see he isn’t alone.

His dad, Greg, is in the seat beside him, staring at me.

And holding a shotgun, angled over his shoulder.

My pulse picks up speed but I’m not sure I’m even scared.

I’m fucking pissed.

My chest is heaving from my run, sweat dripping down my back even in the October chill, and I park my hands on my hips. “Can I help you?” I ask Chase, a smile pulling at his thin lips.

He smacks his hand on the outside of the vehicle, and I feel his dad’s eyes on me. I’ve met him a handful of times, saw him at every game. He was always loud and aggressive in the stands, arguing with refs about plays, booing our opponents like high school football was the be-all end-all of his world.

“Yeah,” Chase says, shrugging as he stares down at me. “Just wanted to make sure you were all right, after that fire.”

“I don’t live on campus,” I say through gritted teeth, his words sending adrenaline spiking through my body.

His dad says nothing, just keeps watching me with that goddamn gun in his hand.

“But Remi does, huh?” Chase drops all pretenses of politeness, leaning down close, his hand still on the wheel, one draped out of the SUV now. There’re a few feet between us, me still on the grass, but it wouldn’t take much for me to reach out and drag his ass through the window. “Listen, Cort,” he spits on the pavement between us, “you need to let her go.”

I don’t say anything, just keep watching him.

He arches a brow. “It’ll be safer for her that way.”

I nod, like I’m considering his request as I glance down at the dark asphalt, then back up. “What’s got your panties in a bunch, Chase?” I ask him, keeping my tone light. I see his Dad shift in his seat, but he can go fuck himself. “What’s itreallymatter to you who I’m fucking?”

He pulls his brows together, anger flashing in his freckled face, but it isn’t him who speaks. It’s his dad.

“It matters to me, Cortland, because you’re putting my son’s reputation on the line.” He’s leaned across his son, who is sitting rigid in the driver’s seat, and for the first time, I see something I can relate to in Chase’s face.

Defeat.

He’s letting his dad take over, because this isn’t even his fight. Just like my mom, Greg wants to control him.

“And mine,” he continues, his voice deep and angry, his knuckles blanched over the rifle in his hand. “Because my clients want to know why the hell an innocent boy would fuck around with the girl that accused him of rape.”

“Pardon me, Mr. McGowan, but what the hell does my dick have to do with your clients?”

I watch his face turn a deep shade of red, and he shifts the gun over his shoulder. For a moment, real fear lights through me. But he wouldn’t actually shoot me on a fucking suburban street, right?

I should’ve brought my own gun.

I shouldn’t have left Remi.

I need to call Storm.

“Watch your mouth, Cortland,” he snarls at me, Chase still pressed back against the seat, staring straight ahead, through the windshield. “Innocent people don’t hang out with their accusers, and they sure as shit don’t have sex with them. Unless you’re not innocent, and that makes my boy not innocent, you hear me?”

“If the shoe fucking fits.” I throw up my hands. “Have a good night.” I start walking in the direction of my house, but Chase just drives slowly, following along.

“Just leave her alone, man,” he says, and I hear a note of desperation in his words. “Just leave her alone. I know you feel guilty, but you know we didn’t do what she said, Cort. You know we didn’t.”

I ignore him, my hands still on my hips as I catch my breath from my run, and from this fucking encounter.

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