Dropout (The Good Guys Book 3)

by Jamie Schlosser

  “What the hell is that?”

  “That’s where we tell each other our secrets—the things we’re afraid to say. No judgment, just honesty. Lay it all out there.”

  “All of it?”

  “As much as you’re willing to say. I’ll even go first.”

  “Okay…” I agreed reluctantly.

  “Remember how I said I didn’t do well at school? Well, I went to college with a plan and when things didn’t go the way I thought they should, I kinda lost my shit. After my high school girlfriend broke up with me, I fell into some bad habits.”

  I took a second to process his confession. “So you were heartbroken?”

  “Yes and no. I’m not sure how deep my feelings for her really went, but being dumped sucked,” he said. “My way of dealing with it was to party. I drank a lot. Slept around a little. Neither fixed anything.”

  “By slept around, you mean…?”

  “A few casual hook-ups. It wasn’t hard to find girls who were just looking for a good time.” Biting his lip, he seemed to be holding back.

  “Come on, Jimmy. All of it,” I reminded him.

  Blowing out a breath, he raked a wet hand through his hair. The dampness caused it to stick up in certain places, and I liked the way it looked out of place.

  “Guys are supposed to like that sort of thing, you know? It was easy. No feelings involved. But in the morning, I always just ended up feeling sort of empty. And that loneliness made me want to fill the void with more partying, more girls. It was a destructive cycle. And that’s how I failed my freshman year of college,” he finished with a shrug.

  I was taken aback by his honesty. “Well, hey, at least you’re owning it and not making excuses for yourself.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s one way of looking at it. I’m trying to turn things around, get my priorities straight.” Playfully splashing water at me, he said, “Now it’s your turn.”

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to think of where to start. The truth was, my story didn’t begin with Jaxon.

  “When I was younger, I was the chubby kid with glasses and bad hair. I didn’t have a lot of friends. I wasn’t athletic and I wasn’t super smart, so I felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere,” I explained. “The summer before my junior year I dropped fifteen pounds and grew a couple inches. Mom said I was a late bloomer. I got contacts and new clothes. I changed so much that some people thought I was a new kid when school started back up. I was shy, naïve, and completely inexperienced when it came to boys. I was the perfect target for someone like Jaxon. He was intense, obsessive, predatory. I just didn’t know enough at the time to be able to recognize how dangerous he was.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen. He was the first person to ever show interest in dating me, and I jumped at the chance. I just wanted a boyfriend.” I huffed out a humorless laugh at how pathetic that sounded. “He was nice for the first few weeks, then his true colors came through. He was abusive in pretty much every way. Physically, emotionally, sexually.”

  The silence that stretched between us was beyond uncomfortable, and I wondered if I’d said too much.

  “Did he rape you?” Jimmy’s voice came out quiet and raspy, like he was afraid to know the answer.

  I stared at the bright green house as I thought about how the sexual abuse started right away. All the times Jaxon wouldn’t listen when I said no. How angry he would get, and how that anger turned into physical force.

  “I didn’t see it like that at the time… I mean, he was my boyfriend, you know? We went on dates and stuff. I finally had someone to take me to the homecoming dance,” I said, recalling how exciting it was at first. “And after he pushed me into doing things I wasn’t ready for, he’d just tell me he couldn’t help himself. That he loved me too much to stop.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Jimmy growled. “That’s not love.”

  “I know that now.” Familiar shame washed over me. “And I think part of me knew it then, too. But I didn’t tell anyone. I was too ashamed, and he banked on that. I ended up shutting out my family and friends until he was the only person I had left.”

  “So what happened the night he went to jail? I could look it up, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

  “Long story short? He broke into my house with the plan to kill me, then himself,” I stated, matter-of-factly. “I shot him. He didn’t plan on me defending myself. The trial was pretty cut and dried. The voicemails, the texts, and the 9-1-1 call made his intentions clear.” I shuddered at reliving the details. “Plus, he was armed with a baseball bat and his stepfather’s hunting knife.”

  “Motherfucker,” Jimmy cursed through gritted teeth.

  “And to make matters worse, when shit hit the fan it was like the whole town turned against me,” I added.

  “Who turned against you?” he asked, sounding angry on my behalf.

  “Basically the entire school. I guess it’s an exaggeration to say the whole town, but when you’re in high school it feels that way. The end of my senior year was me just trying to lay low and keep my head down until graduation.”

  I went on to tell him about the harassment, egging, and vandalism on my locker. I didn’t leave any details out. He wanted the truth and I gave it to him. When I was done, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

  “I can’t believe you went through that alone.”

  I huffed. “I can’t believe I was such a doormat.”

  “Hey.” His voice was firm, yet gentle at the same time. “You were sixteen, Mack. There’s a difference between being young and being a doormat. He took advantage of you. You are not a doormat.”

  “Not anymore,” I agreed. “And I’m not a damsel in distress either. I shot him once and I’d do it again.”

  “Have you been able to date since then?” he asked, shifting from one uncomfortable subject to another.

  When I thought about the one relationship I had a couple years ago—if you could even call it a relationship—I felt embarrassment mixed with a little regret. “I dated a guy in Nashville. He was nice.”

  “Nice?”

  “Yeah. Normal and nice.”

  “And did you…uh…” Jimmy didn’t have to finish the sentence for me to know what he was asking.

  I gave a sharp nod. “I tried. The sex was…okay. It only happened a few times before we both decided we were better off as friends.”

  “So, he was nice and the sex was okay.”

  Grimacing, I took another drink. “I tried so hard to be normal because I just wanted to feel something. But I had a bit of an issue…”

  “What issue?” Jimmy tipped his bottle back, like maybe he needed some liquid courage, too.

  “I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” I muttered. I blew out a breath before continuing. “I would kind of freak out if I wasn’t the one on top. Needless to say, that made things awkward.”

  I inwardly cringed when I thought about the panic attack that followed my first attempt at intimacy since Jaxon. Talk about a way to ruin the mood. Jeremy was a bass guitarist I’d met at an open mic night. He was quiet, kind of shy, and he was in the business for the right reason—he loved making music. We bonded over the common interest, but the physical chemistry between us had been lacking and I was never able to feel comfortable with him.

  “You needed to feel like you were the one in control,” Jimmy concluded. “That makes sense.”

  Feeling exposed, I looked away. “You can be honest. You must think I’m pretty messed up, huh?”

  “Anyone would be messed up after that,” he replied.

  He didn’t completely answer my question, but at least he didn’t try to deny it that he thought I was messed up. This was supposed to be an honest conversation, after all.

  I chugged the rest of my beer and glanced over to find Jimmy watching me.

  “Ple
ase stop looking at me like that.” My voice came out small.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you feel sorry for me.”

  His jaw clenched. “I could kill him for what he did to you.”

  “I already tried that,” I said in a sing-song voice, my intoxication level going from tipsy to full-on drunk.

  “Have you talked to someone about it?” Jimmy asked. “Like a doctor or something?”

  I nodded. “Yep. I went to therapy for a year when I moved down to Nashville. It was the one thing my parents asked me to do when I left. I even attended a support group for a while.”

  “Did it help?”

  “Not really.” I pinned him with my gaze, wanting to appear strong. “Yes, the experience changed me, but I’m not ruined.”

  “I don’t think you’re ruined,” he said sincerely. “I like you just the way you are.”

  Pushing off the wall, Jimmy floated over to me, closing the four-foot gap between us. He took the empty beer from my hand and placed the bottles outside the hot tub.

  Then he sat next to me.

  My breathing hitched when he linked his pinky finger with mine underneath the water.

  A gesture of support. How could such a small action make me feel so safe?

  I could feel his eyes on me but I didn’t dare look his way. Instead, I tightened my finger around his and relaxed back into the water. We sat that way for several minutes in silence as I soaked up the physical contact.

  We’d been still for so long that the motion detector light turned off. Jimmy’s finger rubbed against mine and it made me wish for something more.

  If I tried hard enough, I could almost imagine that I was just a normal twenty-one-year old girl sitting next to a guy I was crushing on.

  Jimmy shifted toward me like he was preparing to say something, but I broke the silence first.

  “So, the friends with benefits thing. That’s something you’ve done before?”

  He took several seconds to respond and his answer was short. “Yeah.”

  Feeling bold from the alcohol, I made a desperate suggestion. “Could we do that? Be friends with benefits, I mean.”

  “No,” he responded quickly, as if the very idea of being with me like that was out of the question.

  Ouch.

  My cheeks flamed, and I was glad it was too dark for him to see it. Humiliation from the rejection was a total buzzkill.

  Suddenly, I felt ridiculous for throwing myself at Jimmy. Here I’d been thinking we were on the same page, and he was just trying to be a friend.

  “Okay.” I stood up on shaky legs, causing the water to splash around me. The light came back on and I tried to climb out of the hot tub without slipping on my ass. Grabbing a towel off the patio chair, I hastily wrapped it around my waist. “You’re right. That was a really bad idea. ’Bye, Jimmy.”

  Turning quickly, I started back toward my house.

  “Mack, wait!” I heard splashing behind me and I walked faster, determined to end this awkward-as-hell night.

  “Goodnight,” I called without stopping.

  I heard an “oh shit” followed by a thud, and I turned to see Jimmy sprawled out on the lawn.

  Fantastic.

  He was wasted.

  And that meant I couldn’t even seduce a drunk guy.

  But despite how embarrassed I was, I couldn’t just leave him there.

  Trudging back over, I nudged his shoulder with my foot. “Hey.” Nothing. I did it again. “Hey.” Still no response. Bending down, I shook him with my hand. “Jim—”

  My word turned into a screech because he grabbed me, pulled me on top of him, then rolled us until we were laying side by side. It took me a moment to focus on Jimmy’s face.

  He grinned. “Fooled you.”

  CHAPTER 15

  JIMMY

  The cool grass felt good on my heated skin as Mackenna fumed.

  “That’s not funny, James Peabody Johnson,” she snapped, trying to push away from me.

  Laughing, I held on tight. “Yeah, it is.”

  Giving up, she stopped wiggling and let out a sad sigh. “I can’t blame you for not wanting to sleep with me.”

  The hurt in her voice caused an echoing ache in my chest. Her eyes stayed focused on some spot on my shoulder, and even without much light I could see the blush on her cheeks.

  After what I learned tonight, things became a lot more complicated. I wasn’t dealing with a girl who simply didn’t like me—that was something I could work with. No, this was someone who’d been traumatized.

  This wasn’t a matter of winning her over with my charm but a matter of gaining her trust, which presented a completely different obstacle. A much more difficult obstacle.

  I wasn’t deterred, though.

  We just needed to get to know each other. People said the best relationships started out with a foundation of friendship.

  I’d be the best fucking friend she’d ever had.

  What she was offering was every guy’s dream—a summer fling with a hot girl who lived two states away.

  But I wanted more than that from Mackenna. If I agreed to her offer, I’d be settling.

  I needed her to know my reasons for saying no.

  “Do you want to know why I really came over to your house yesterday?” It was a rhetorical question, so I didn’t wait for her to answer. “I wanted to ask you out.”

  “On a date?” she asked incredulously, her eyebrows nearly hitting her hairline. “But you don’t even like me.”

  Grinning, I tucked some of the damp hair behind her ear.

  “You’re so wrong about that. The truth is, I want you so bad it hurts. And I’m not just talking about my dick, even though you’ve been the cause of blue balls for me constantly since we met.” Her eyes widened at my candor, and I continued before she got too freaked out and ran away. “But I won’t do casual with you. It’s all or nothing.”

  “I can’t believe you’re turning down no-strings-attached sex,” she said, shocked.

  I laughed. “Neither can I. Honestly, though…I can’t have sex with you if you don’t trust me, if you don’t feel safe. Don’t you see how messed up that would be? You deserve better than that.” I paused. “And so do I.”

  “Okay, I see your point,” she said with a slight pout.

  Suddenly, I wanted to kiss that scar on her forehead. Then I recalled the way she freaked out when I asked about it. Dread formed in the pit of my stomach when it occurred to me how she might’ve gotten that injury.

  “Did he do that?”

  “Do what?”

  I answered her by placing my lips over the mark, giving it a light kiss.

  Sucking in a breath, she nodded. “We went hiking one day. He came on to me and I said no—not because I didn’t want to have sex outside, but because I didn’t want to at all. And I told him that. He got mad and pushed me. I hit my head on a rock.”

  My fists clenched behind her back. “How many stiches did you need?”

  “Four.”

  I’d never had the desire to kill anyone before, and it was a weird feeling. Sure, I’d been in fights, but I never really wanted to hurt anyone. That wasn’t the case now.

  I wanted to find this guy. I wanted blood.

  “Do you really think he’s going to come after you?” I pulled back a little to look her in the eye.

  Her lips pressed together. “I don’t know. The scariest part is not knowing what he’s thinking or what his intentions are. It’s been such a long time. Honestly, I thought he would’ve forgotten about me by now.”

  “This is the same guy you shot, right? I’d say that would make you pretty memorable,” I joked, trying to lighten the situation. “And totally badass, by the way.”

  My comment didn’t make her laugh. Instead, her finger
s tightened on my shoulder and her voice came out in a whisper. “What if he’s here? Like, right now… What if he’s watching me?”

  I understood her concern. A small part of me hoped he was watching. Because if he was nearby, that meant I could get my hands on him. And if I could get my hands on him, I’d make sure he never harassed Mackenna again.

  But I kept those thoughts to myself.

  “I’m staying at your house tonight,” I told her, making sure my tone left no room for argument.

  “I thought you said you weren’t gonna sleep with me,” she shot back, her slurred words giving away her level of intoxication.

  “I’m not. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “You don’t have to do that. It’s not big enough for you anyway.” Her argument came out stilted and half-hearted. From the way some of the tension left her body, I could tell she felt safe with me.

  “It’s either that or I sleep on your porch,” I told her. “Your call.”

  Letting out a cute huff, she sent me a sexy smirk that went straight to my dick. “Are you going to be my bodyguard or something? ’Cause that’d be kinda hot.”

  “Yes,” I said seriously.

  “Do you have any more beer?” she asked.

  I smiled at the random change of subject. “Sorry, no.”

  “That’s okay.” She sat up, holding onto the pink towel around her waist. “Let’s go finish off my Boon’s Farm.”

  Jumping up, she ran toward her house, and I had no choice but to follow.

  *

  The leggings Mackenna changed into were purple, decorated with yellow starfish. When I realized I didn’t have anything to wear except my wet swim trunks, she ran upstairs and came back down with a pair of gray sweatpants. They were a little short, the ankles hugging me mid-calf, but the waist fit.

  She offered to find me a T-shirt, too, but when I told her I was good without one, she rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath about hot nipples.

  Between the whiskey, beer, and wine, I knew Mackenna had to be pretty drunk. Which is exactly why I asked her to sing for me.