Conceal

by Juliana Stone

The thing of it was, Beau Simon didn’t give a damn.

  When he finally came up for air, her gaze slid from his and he gently let her fall away from him, aware that something had just shifted. Something had just changed.

  He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but he was sure as hell willing to find out.

  “Good game,” he said as he caught his breath.

  “Yeah,” Betty answered, squealing when two large, meaty hands slid around her waist from behind.

  Beau glanced up and just like that, the lightness inside him vanished.

  Hulk.

  The guy nodded at Beau and whispered something into Betty’s ear. He took a step forward and offered up his hand. “Nice hit.”

  Beau shook his hand. “Thanks.”

  Hulk’s grip was firm, his smile easy, but the expression in his eyes was unreadable. Beau couldn’t tell if the guy was pissed off that he’d just kissed his girl, or if he was unconcerned.

  “This is Matt,” Betty said quickly, tugging on Hulk’s arm. “Ah, good game, Beau. I’ll…I’ll see you later.”

  She slipped her hand into Hulk’s and left the diamond, waving and smiling at the crowd as the whistles and catcalls grew louder.

  A sucker-punch in the shoulder had Beau whipping his head around and he glared at his brother.

  “What?” he barked.

  Tucker grinned. “How’s it feel, Hollywood?”

  “How does what feel?”

  “To be the Sexiest Man Alive and still lose the girl.”

  Beau wanted to throttle his brother, however he smiled at a group of fans waiting near the dugout for a picture before he turned back to Tucker. “Fuck you.”

  Tucker’s eyes flashed as he chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE PARTY WAS going strong inside the arena that housed her sister’s hockey school. Billie had had the ice removed and donated the space for the reception following the tournament, that included a massive buffet, bar, and dance. It seemed as if everyone from town had paid to attend the event. They all wanted to rub shoulders with the celebrities who’d taken part in the baseball tournament, and Beau Simon was the busiest.

  He’d posed for more pictures and signed more autographs than anyone and he’d done it graciously. God, Marianne Phibbs had swooned like a teenager when he’d spent some extra time with her and had taken at least five photos with the woman. The guy was almost too good to be true.

  Almost.

  Outside, a half moon hung low in the sky and Betty welcomed the shadows as she leaned against the still-hot brick of the building. Her hair clung to the damp skin on her neck, the long tendrils waving madly in the humidity. Her dress, a slinky, black halter she’d confiscated from one of her last photo shoots, stuck in places much too sensitive.

  Her breasts.

  Slowly, her hand crept up and she grazed nipples that were hard. With a groan she closed her eyes.

  God, why had Beau kissed her like that?

  And why the hell was it so hot?

  She rubbed her forehead and sighed, feeling the twinges of a headache coming on.

  It had been a day.

  God, it had been a day.

  She’d played her part perfectly—the Betty Jo Barker everyone expected—and she’d done it well. But it was exhausting.

  The men. The comments. The smiles and pats on the ass when they thought they could get away with it.

  Beau.

  Betty’s fingers fell to her lips and the ache inside her—the one that had been building all day erupted. She moved restlessly, whimpering at the friction between her legs.

  She was hot. Bothered. And that damn hole inside her yawned open, its emptiness taunting her. She felt as if she was coming out of her skin. It was worse than coming down from a high and she wished she’d have tossed back a few vodkas. At least then she might have had a chance at being relaxed.

  Instead, she was outside, hiding in the shadows, rubbing her thighs together, nipples rock hard with desire.

  For him. For Beau.

  The kiss had been amazing.

  “Shit,” she murmured.

  What am I going to do?

  Why was everything so screwed up?

  Lane Summers was inside. Lane-fucking-Summers.

  Betty had heard rumors they were dating and judging by the nasty looks the woman had thrown her way, she was willing to believe them.

  Hmm. Beau and Lane. She supposed they were perfect for each other. Both came from money and ran in the same social circles. Both were successful—Beau in his career and Lane as a professional famous person. Heck, they were so golden you needed a pair of goddamn sunglasses just to look at them.

  Though, the fact that he was into her kind of disappointed Betty. She was just so…standard. Un-original. Boring. Predictable.

  Whatever, Lane could have him. It’s not as if Betty wanted Beau that way.

  So why was Betty focused on a kiss that didn’t mean anything? A kiss that had been pure adrenaline and nothing more than part of the game? Of course Beau had done it for the crowd.

  And she’d let him. She let him and she’d loved it and she didn’t care that the entire town now thought she was sleeping with Beau Simon.

  She didn’t care that once again she was the bad girl—with Lane Summers shooting daggers her way it was pretty obvious.

  But still…it had been a day. Between avoiding Billie, who seemed hell bent on cornering her for a chat and Beau, who caught her elbow a few minutes ago as she’d walked by, Betty was about to lose it.

  She’d been on her way to the washroom and he’d told her that he needed to talk to her. Betty knew it was crunch time. He wanted an answer about the movie and because she had no idea what she was going to do, she’d headed outside instead of back into the arena.

  And here she was. Alone. Frustrated. Pissed off.

  Horny.

  “There you are.”

  Scratch that. No longer alone.

  The headache that had dogged her for the last hour, crept across her forehead as she tilted her head.

  Billie stood a few feet away, one hand beneath her round belly as she took a step forward. Movement behind her told Betty that her sister wasn’t alone.

  Bobbi popped into view and waved.

  Great. This was going to be a tag-team attack.

  For a few seconds no one said anything and it gave Betty an opportunity to gather her thoughts and find what bit of strength she had left.

  It had been a day and it sure as hell wasn’t over so she better pull up her big girl panties and bring it.

  “The tournament was a success,” Billie said quietly.

  “Yep,” Betty answered, waiting. She wasn’t making this easy for her sister. A host of nasty, ugly, thoughts crowded her brain and she welcomed the thrust of anger.

  No fucking way.

  “Congratulations on winning,” Billie continued.

  Again silence fell between the three girls.

  “So,” Billie said. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Billie took a few more steps until she was inches from Betty. “We need to talk about this, whatever this is, once and for all.”

  “I don’t feel like talking to you, Billie.”

  A tick appeared beneath Billie’s right eye and Betty knew her sister was pissed. Good. Betty was getting sick and tired of being the only one pissed off. Maybe it was time to let everything out.

  Maybe it was time to tell Billie exactly what she thought of her.

  She pushed off from the wall and Billie stumbled back a few inches, inhaling quickly as she fought for balance.

  “What is wrong with you?” Billie snapped.

  “A lot,” Betty quipped.

  “Apparently.” Billie replied.

  Betty tossed her head back. Were they really going to do this now? She stared her sister down as a shit-ton of emotion and memories rolled over her.

  “Girls,” Bobbi said
sharply.

  “Stay out of this, Bobbi,” Billie said as she rubbed her stomach and stared at Betty, her face flushed with anger and…something else. Disgust? Dislike?

  Okay, that hurt. But hurt just made Betty push back. She blew out a hot breath and clenched her hands.

  It’s on.

  But Betty’s throat was so tight she didn’t know if she could speak. Instead she waited for the axe to fall, shoulders tense, her heart black.

  Her fingers crept up to her neck—she didn’t even know it—and she rubbed her tattoo as if it could somehow give her strength. Courage. And yet the hollow space inside her expanded, threatening to swallow her whole.

  It was too much. She was too full. There was no way she could do this. Some things should just stay buried.

  She glanced out into the parking lot, spied Gramps car and strode forward, shoving her way past Billie and dragging in a big gulp of air.

  “So, typical,” Billie snarled. “You run when the shit hits because you’re a coward.”

  Betty ignored her and kept going. She was about ten steps away from the car when Billie spoke again.

  “So, what is this? Are you jealous of the fact that I ended up with Logan and not you? Are you really that petty?”

  Betty froze.

  “Ah, so that’s it.” A pause. “I knew it.”

  Something broke apart inside Betty. A piece of ice that shattered and filled her with such rage that for a moment she saw nothing but blackness. Her hands clenched and she whirled around. In that moment she hated her sister. Hated her.

  So much.

  “You don’t know shit, Billie, so just shut up.”

  “I’m not going to shut up. I’m sick of shutting up and tiptoeing around you like you’re some kind of fragile princess. We both know you’re not fragile. You’re hard as rock. You don’t give a shit about anything or anyone but yourself. You never have.”

  Betty’s heart was pounding so hard she felt it pushing blood through her veins with every beat. “You don’t know…” she began but couldn’t get the rest of her words out because of the anger clogging her throat.

  Billie walked toward her, while Bobbi looked on, stricken, but quiet.

  “Don’t I? I think I know a hell of a lot.” Billie glared at her, so close that if she wasn’t pregnant, Betty would have knocked her on her ass.

  “Don’t start this, Billie,” Betty warned.

  “Start?” she snorted. “I’m trying to finish this. I’m trying to understand. Is it Logan? Is that it? Is this because he and I ended up together?”

  “Yes.” The word slipped out in spite of the burning in her throat.

  Billie looked shocked as if she wasn’t expecting the answer, and before Betty could stop herself, that piece of ice inside her shattered and everything tumbled out.

  “You want to know the truth? It’s not pretty,” Betty said.

  “I want to understand—“

  “I hate that you and Logan are in love.”

  Billie’s mouth hung open in shock.

  “I hate that you’re having his baby and that you have this life, this unbelievable, lovely, perfect fucking life, complete with that stupid cat and a white picket fence.”

  “Wow,” Billie said, her voice a little rough. “I had no idea you were so jealous and petty. Unreal. You could have any guy you want. Why do you want mine? Or are you just pissed that he chose me over you?”

  Red-hot anger coursed through Betty and she took a step forward, loving the hint of fear she saw in her sister’s eyes.

  “He did choose me, remember? Or have you forgotten what you did that night?”

  “Seriously?” Billie threw her hands into the air. “We’re going back to that?”

  “It’s always been about that night, Billie. Everything that’s shit in my life…is because of that night.” Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes and Betty wiped at them. She shook her head. “But don’t flatter yourself. Don’t think for one second that I want Logan for myself.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Billie snapped. “Why can’t you just be honest? You want what I have. You always want what’s not yours and right now you want Logan Forest. God, when I think about the way you used to lead him on. You were such a tease.”

  “Shut. Your. Mouth.” She barely managed to speak, because her voice shook so much.

  “Truth hurts doesn’t it? It must kill you that he wants me. Poor little Betty, the big-time model who snorted her way through a small fortune and screwed more guys than she can probably remember. Now she has nothing. Well, who’s fault it that?”

  “I hate what you have. How’s that for honest? I hate what you have because I’ll never have it. No man will ever fall in love with me and treat me with the kind of respect and love that Logan has for you. It will never happen. I’m the junkie whore, remember? The girl who likes to fuck, drink, and snort her way through life. The girl everyone loves to hate.”

  “Well, it’s not my fault you’re a…”

  The blood rushed into Betty’s ears and it took a second for her to focus. “A slut?”

  For a moment Billie didn’t answer, but then she shrugged. “Your reputation is well earned, Betty. Everyone knows it. You can’t blame me for that. You did that all on your own.”

  “No, no you’re right.” Betty said. “I can’t blame you for the fact that Daddy spent all his time with you. I can’t blame you for the projects I worked on that he barely glanced at. Or the dance recitals he always missed because he was somewhere with you. I can’t blame you for the fact that I did some pretty awful things because I wanted him to notice me. To get mad at me. Or something. And now it’s too late. Half the time he doesn’t even know who I am.”

  “But—”

  “Just shut the fuck up, Billie, and listen. I can’t blame you for those things. Not anymore. It took years of therapy for me to figure that one out. But I can blame you for what happened to me that night. I can blame you and I can hate you for it and trust me, that’s all I’ve got right now.”

  Billie frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Betty was shaking and she couldn’t stop. Everything was there, stuck in her throat and slowly falling out. The words were like tears falling from her mouth, sorrowful tears…painful tears.

  “I should have gone home with Matt that night, but I didn’t. Instead, I got high in the bathroom with Jenny Daniels while you were banging Logan Forest in the back bedroom. Of course everyone thought it was me, and at the time I didn’t really give a shit. What was one more notch on my bedpost? I was drunk and high. But when I tried to leave the party…”

  Her heart was beating so fast and hard that for a moment Betty thought she was going to pass out.

  “When I tried to leave Mick Valenti grabbed me. He was with Nate Parsons and Billie Owens. They were drunk or stoned.”

  She glared at her sister, so full of anger…and so very, very, hurt.

  “Everyone was in the house partying. The tunes where thumping, I remember someone blasting Alice In Chains. Mick grabbed me and dragged me into this shed out back. At first I wasn’t scared. I remember tripping a few times and laughing.” She paused as the images washed over her. “I laughed,” Betty said softly. “I tripped over a lawn mower and I thought it was funny.”

  She shivered. Her stomach cramped and she thought she would be sick. But the words that had been stuck inside her for years couldn’t be stopped.

  “Mick was pissed because I’d flirted with him for months…had even gone on a few dates with him but I’d never let him…we never…”

  She swallowed. “He was really mad that I’d just given it up to Logan. Everyone at the party knew. So, he…”

  “Oh, my God,” Billie took a step back, her face white as she slowly shook her head.

  “He told me that I was a dirty, nasty, whore. Said I was a cock tease. Mick said that he and his buddies would make me forget all about Logan Forest.” Betty squeezed her eyes shut. “He was right. After that night
I couldn’t see anyone but him and his buddies for months and months. I still see them sometimes.”

  “Betty what are you saying?” Bobbi’s hand slid over Betty’s forearm but she jerked away and gave a harsh laugh.

  “I’m saying that no one heard me say, no. No one heard me scream for help. No one heard me beg them to stop. There was nothing but the three of them and the smell of beer and cigarettes and engine oil. It was ugly and dirty.”

  Her voice fell to a whisper. “I was ugly and dirty.”

  Shocked silence fell between them all.

  Billie whimpered, horror in her eyes.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Bobbi said hoarsely, tears in her eyes.

  “Tell you what? That the most outrageous flirt in New Waterford,” her gaze swung back to Billie. “The biggest cock-tease in New Waterford, who apparently just fucked Logan Forest, drank a half bottle of vodka, and smoked some weed was raped? God, I couldn’t believe what I let happen. I let them…let them…”

  The tears started to fall and Betty scrubbed at her face. “I was ashamed and so angry at myself. So fucking angry at you, Billie.” She shook her head. “I hated you. I hated you and I hated Logan, but most of all I hated myself. I hated that I had lost control. That I let those animals take me. I hated what I was and later, I hated what I became.”

  A sob escaped. “When I see you and Logan together it makes me sick. Physically sick. So don’t expect me to stand up for you on your wedding day. Don’t expect me to be happy for you because you’re having his baby, or that you have this wonderful life…a life that I’ll never have. I can’t be happy for you. I just can’t.”

  For a moment, there was nothing but the echo of voices from within the reception and three women staring at each other through new eyes.

  Betty shivered and pushed the giant knot in her throat away. When she spoke her voice was low and quivering. “No one knows about this except Matt and I want to keep it that way. Don’t you dare tell anyone. That means Logan and Shane.”

  “Betty,” Bobbi said gently, taking a step toward her. “You can’t keep this a secret.”

  “I can and I will. This stays here or I’ll leave and I won’t come back. Ever. I’m good at it. I’ve done it before.”