Page 62 of Giving In

I didn’t expect this, and I try to take a step back to think but he easily stops me by putting his other hand on my other hip. His hands are so big on my narrow body, he easily cages me in and brings me back to him.

“Why?” he repeats.

All sorts of thoughts are going through my mind but none of them seem like a plausible lie. One that he would believe and that would be good enough for him to let me go.

He lets out a frustrated chuckle and his smug smile turns into a smirk that makes me uneasy. I squirm under his hold and he tightens.

“Stop it, you’re gonna get bruised.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“The truth.” He untucks my shirt slowly and raises it.

“What are you doing?” I ask in a panic.

He doesn’t reply and a few seconds later the tee is over my head. “I never said you could wear this, baby. Do you want Camila to cut my balls off or something?”

He throws it on the bed behind us and when his gaze comes back to me, I’m too deep into thinking about him and Camila to realize I’m standing in my bra in front of him. What if she learns what we’ve done?

Wedidn’t do anything.Hejumped me and I’m doing my best to survive this evening.

A heaviness grows in my stomach at the situation. Is this what it’s like to be just another girl he cheats on Camila with? In the end, no matter what, he’ll always run back to the beautiful Camila Diaz.

“What’s this?”

I jump at his voice and the touch on my shoulder. His finger is hooked under my left bra strap and he’s looking right at my scar. It’s a fairly big scar, especially for a shoulder the size of mine.

The bullet entered just above my pectoral and lodged in my clavicle. It stayed there for hours before someone found me. They had to go so deep to get the bullet out that I have a long horizontal line running across my front deltoid. It’s ugly, my skin burns all the time because of the psychological trauma and lacrosse gets painful if I play too hard since my clavicle was shattered by the bullet. Mainly, it’s a constant reminder of the night I lost the two most important men in my life. When I woke up, my dad was dead, and my brother had disappeared.

Jake runs his fingers along the scar, and I wince. It doesn’t hurt, it’s all in my head but I can’t help it.

I must have paled because he takes a step back and observes me with a frown.

“Tell me,” he demands like it’s just that easy. The distance between him and human feelings is unfathomable.

I shake my head in negation, but he comes back on me too quickly for me to react. He grabs the back of my neck, his fingers pulling my hair.

“Fuck, do you think because I stopped when you asked me, you get to say no to me?”

My heart picks up in fear. “I–I–”

“Did you already forget what I said earlier? I’m more than happy to remind you that I’ve got shit on you, Goody.”

“No, I know, I know,” I panic, putting a hand on his chest to try to keep him away.

“Then start talking.”

“Please, Jake, I can’t. Not this.” My begging voice sounds annoying even to me.

He lets me go harshly and takes a step back, an animalistic growl coming out of his mouth. Is this just how it works when he doesn’t get what he wants? Violence and threats? His phone rings on the bed, and he lets out another annoyed grunt.

“Don’t move,” he whispers as he walks around me to go grab his phone.

“Chris, bro, this better be important because I’m busy,” he says in a friendly voice.

What is it with me? Why is it that every time he turns to me, he’s a demon and every time he addresses himself to someone else, he turns back to the chill Jake.

“Shit,” he says in a rush, “I’ll take care of it.” He hangs up at the same time as someone knocks violently on the front door.

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