Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series) (31 page)

I clear my throat. “Hey, I’m sorry to bug you again. But do you have some sheets or a blanket for the couch?”

“Yeah,” he says, but he makes no move to tell me where or get them for me. I shift on my feet. Geez, he throws me so off balance. Or maybe it was last night’s events that have me so off. Or maybe I’m just an idiot when it comes to him.

“Um, can you tell me where or what?” I snap.

“No, you’re sleeping in here. We’re talking before you go to sleep.”

My back stiffen. This is bullshit. “Look, I feel like I owe you for helping me out, which is why I’ve let you get away with bossing me around, but I’m over being ordered around like some helpless child. I’m nineteen years old. I take care of myself. Always have, and that’s not gonna change because I had a shitty night last night. I came over here tonight because I didn’t feel like fighting with you in front of everyone, but I draw the line at sleeping with you. That’s not gonna happen again.”

He looks through me the whole time I’m speaking, which is part of the reason I kept ranting. I was waiting on some evidence that he was registering my words. “I wasn’t asleep when Maggie called,” he says softly.

“Uh, OK?”

His eyes focus on mine. “I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about you,” he confesses.

Oh.

“Please, come here.” A request that still sounds like a demand.

I’m back to shifting on my feet. Shit. I drop my bag on his floor and close the door behind me. I hate sleeping in a bunch of clothes, so I comprise by stripping the t-shirt off and leaving the pajama bottoms on. I walk to the side of his bed. “Are you gonna let me in?”

“No,” he says with a laugh. He motions his head to the empty side. “Climb over.”

“Whatever.” Instead, I scoot around to the end of the bed and climb up from the bottom. I crawl between the sheets while he situates himself on his side. I turn on my side and face him.

“So who’s Blake?”

Fuck. That throws me, but I hear myself answer automatically, “My step-father.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Why would you be calling out his name from your nightmares? And what does that have to do with what the bitches pulled last night?”

“We’re not gonna start with the easy stuff, are we?” I joke. He just stares at me. I have a feeling that any stories I fabricate will only lead me to eventually telling him the truth, and I’m exhausted. “He stalked me for years before he finally tried to rape me. And he got close to making that happen. Real close.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yep.”

“Is he still your step-father?”

“Yes. My mother fancies herself in love with him,” I singsong.

“Fucking bastard. How far is it to your house?”

This makes me laugh. “It was a long time ago, Ransom. But thanks.”

“According to Maggie, it was happening for you just about an hour ago.”

Son of a bitch. It was. When I think back to my nightmares, it was a combination of what Blake did, what Greer did, and my bleak predictions of what my life would become without Greer. They felt so real too. “I guess what happened triggered those memories. I’m sure my tortured psyche will bounce back in no time.”

His brow wrinkles. “Why do you think some girls being jealous bitches, which I suspect you’ve been dealing with for years, would set off dreams like that?”

I close my eyes. He’s good. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

Maybe it would feel good to say it, get it out of me. I can’t tell Maggie. She’s so sweet, and she’ll never just let it go. She’ll push until it was all out there, and then the disease of me will taint her too. Ransom’s strong enough for me to lean on, and he doesn’t really give a shit about me, so it won’t affect him. I take and release a deep breath. “OK, so last night wasn’t about girls being jealous bitches.”

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he grinds out. “So?”

My eyes cloud over. I can’t tell him about Greer’s betrayal—that’s too raw, too hurtful. I’ll tell him the lesser of the two evils. “Someone …”
OK
…
even that’s hard to say.
God, I feel so weak.

“Someone?”

“Forced himself on me,” I finish slowly. “But it was someone I’ve been with before, so I don’t really know how to feel about it,” I rush out.

He closes his eyes, and I see his jaw twitch before he grits through his teeth, “Forced himself how?”

“What other way is there?” I ask, confused.

“What the fuck?” he roars. He’s out of the bed like a shot, ripping the covers off me in the process. I sit, pulling my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them because I’m suddenly freezing. “What the fuck?” he shouts again, and a look of pure astonishment crosses his face. “You lied to me. I asked you if anyone hurt you physically, and you lied.”

“Shh … I didn’t want anyone to know, Ransom. And I still don’t.”

He drops the volume, but his voice still rings with rage. “The fuck you don’t want anyone to know. You’re talking rape here, Denver. People have to know. The police need to know.”

I flinch when he says
rape
, close my eyes, and start shaking my head back and forth. That’s such a revolting word. And I don’t know that it even applies to what happened. “I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean? You have to go after this guy. He can’t get away with that.” The bed sags, and I open my eyes to find a kneeling Ransom. His hands lightly coming to rest on either side of my face. “He needs to pay.”

“Ransom, it would be my word against his. I was … we were already in that position when I said no. I’m not even sure if that’s what it’s called. I was ready and willing until about three seconds before—”

“I don’t give a shit if he was already inside you. You say no. You say stop. He damn well stops. That’s fucking Guy 101. Ends it. It’s done.”

I nod rapidly, agreeing whole-heartedly. But does that make him a rapist or just a shithead? The word rapist floats across my vision of Greer’s face, and it just doesn’t fit. Shithead? Totally fits.

“Will you tell me what happened? I need to know if I’m going to be able to help you, Denver.”

This is the first time he’s asked me anything. It’s all been orders prior to this question. I wish he had ordered me to tell him because I don’t know if I can say it otherwise. I laugh at the line of my thoughts, which causes him to frown. Here’s his proof that I’m definitely not normal.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks.

“I wish you had ordered me to tell you,” I blurt out. “You know? Like you’ve been ordering me around. It’d be easier to say if I didn’t have to think about it.”

Chapter Twenty-six

Ransom

I
’VE ALWAYS KNOWN
that I’m not like most people. Before I knew what it was called, I knew there had to be a name for it, and I knew that I couldn’t be the only one. But even knowing everything I know about myself, and that I’m not a freak, I still reprimand myself over my reaction to her words. Honestly, it’s the only time I’ve ever felt sick because of my preferences. I knew I was different, accepted it as a good thing, and owned it. I’ve never been ashamed. Never felt guilty over it until right now in this moment. And, of course, it’s this girl who’s made me feel this way. Of course, it is. I knew it when I saw her the very first time that she would change my life. I never thought she’d make me question myself though.

She’s staring at me with those wide eyes that haven’t stopped glistening with tears since last night, and all I want to do is wrap her up tight and hold her and make the world melt away.

I tamp all that down. It’s not about what I want or what I need. It’s about her right now. And hiding and trying to forget is not the best course of action. Facing it head on and dealing with it, that’s what she needs. I lie back down and bring her with me, pulling the covers over her shivering form. Clearing my throat, I give her what she needs and command, “Denver, tell me what happened to you.”

She smiles. She freaking smiles at me. This girl. This girl who’s been through so much. She’s so tough, my little fighter. I don’t even understand how she’s walking and functioning, let alone fucking thriving, with all the shit’s she’s been through. And I have a feeling I only know the tip of the iceberg.

She places her hand on my chest, and I shudder at her light touch. “I need to know that what I tell you won’t go any further than this room. I think it’d be good to talk about it, and you don’t really like me, so it makes sense to tell you because you’re, um, likely to be more objective when it comes to me. You know? You won’t automatically take my side. You can give me better advice,” she ends with a shrug.

I want to set her straight. I want to tell her that not liking her is
not
the problem. Liking her too much … even beyond liking her … is the real problem. But again, this isn’t about me. I’m not really comfortable being the only person who knows this, but what am I supposed to do? She needs to tell someone. I can probably help her more than anyone else could. I don’t know why I know that. I just do.

Running my hand over hers, I thread our fingers together. “I want to help you. I meant what I said about putting all that aside. I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you need.”

She releases a shaky breath, and I prepare myself to hear some things that are going to make me want to kill some piece of shit.

Denver

T
HIS HAS TO
be as brief as possible, but I can’t tell him everything. I’ll never tell him it was Greer. I won’t do that to my golden boy. Despite everything, he doesn’t deserve that kind of reputation or the punishment that goes with it. Losing my friendship will be punishment enough for him. I can’t even imagine how he’s hurting. I almost cry out at the thought of him in pain, but I can’t focus on that right now. I need to focus on getting my own shit together.

My eyes shift to our intertwined fingers, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I can’t believe how much he’s helped me already, and here he is again.

I bring my eyes back to his, those aqua-green depths glowing with the moonlight, he is not of this world. “Like I said, I’d been with this person before. I left the party with him and went to his apartment. We were both drunk and fooling around. We stripped each other and were lying on his bed. He started … talking about my reputation. Taunting me. It made me uncomfortable, but I was still … aroused. But then he got … rougher than I like, and I could tell he was angry. He said some really hurtful things. I told him to stop and get off of me. He wouldn’t, and I told him I hated him.” I shake my head at the memory of his beautiful, twisted face not understanding what he did to me, or how he hurt me.

“He was so furious with me. He said he wanted to possess me. He wouldn’t stop. I tried to fight him off, but it all happened so quickly. And like I said, we were already in that position, so it was easier to … I should’ve been able to fight him off,” I cry out.

“Shh,” he whispers. “Don’t blame yourself. You’re strong, but he’s stronger. If he was angry and drunk, that only intensified it. Like an adrenaline rush gone bad.”

“The worst part?” I choke out.

He just nods and tightens his fingers around mine.

I’m mortified, but he needs to understand why I can’t tell anyone else, and why I’m not sure that it was … rape. “When I realized I wouldn’t be able to fight him, I went limp and kinda accepted my fate even though I was still crying. And then … I … I climaxed.” The shame of that, of my body’s betrayal, forces my eyelids closed. “I don’t understand that. I don’t understand how my body could still find pleasure after everything he said, after I didn’t want him inside of me. But … now it’s very clear. Crystal fucking clear.”

“What did you figure out?”

I open my eyes back up, needing to own it. A rueful smile forms. “Through and through,” I whisper in awe. “I am a slut. Through and through.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Ransom

I
’M NERVOUS ABOUT
leaving a sleeping Denver, but lying here wondering what I can do to help her isn’t in me. And I’m afraid I’m out of my depth. Extracting myself from her grip without rousing her isn’t easy, but I’m able to after a minute. I tell myself that I’m standing over her and looking down on her to make sure she’s sleeping peacefully, but I call bullshit on myself. I don’t make a habit of lying to myself, ever. I’m staring at her because she’s beautiful and hurting and … just so damn lovable. I tried to fight that after I learned all that shit about her, but it was too fucking late. And it didn’t change a damn thing for me. Lord knows I’d tried. If anything, my feelings have intensified, knowing that she’s a hell of a lot stronger than I ever imagined.

Am I fated to be another one of Denver’s victims? Loving what can never be mine, like fucking Greer? God, just the thought of that seems so ridiculous, but I’ll be damned if it’s not true.

How can she truly give herself to someone if she’s so messed up, not even whole? She can’t. And that’s gonna be a problem for me. That goes against my every instinct.