Ivy
The Knights game had been the first NFL game I’d ever been to. Honestly, besides having a bigger stadium, it was a lot like going to a Wolves game.
But not to B.
He was in his element, and it had been awesome to see. We had such a good time with Romeo and Rimmel that I almost forgot about everything else.
The second we got home, Braeden kissed me fast and went to the gym. He was meeting some of the other Wolves there to train. I could tell he was excited to get in there and work out, to tell everyone about Romeo’s big game.
I made myself some tea and then went up to the bedroom. Prada was dancing all around my feet, having missed us while we were gone. She stayed with Braeden’s mom, and I knew she loved it there, but I was her favorite person.
As I drank my tea, I played with her and gave her some extra attention. She made me smile, and when I went to shower, I was completely relaxed.
What was it about the shower that always made a person think?
Wasn’t standing under the gentle spray of warm water supposed to be further relaxing and mind numbing?
Maybe that’s why my thoughts wandered where I didn’t want them to go.
I was too relaxed, my guard too low, and it gave the perfect opportunity for my mind to conjure up all the thoughts I’d been successful at pushing away.
Like the missing dress.
My confrontations with Missy.
Imagining I saw Zach in the stairwell.
I didn’t want to think I was slowly losing it.
I wanted to deny and shove away I suspected there might be something wrong with me. But seriously, how long could a girl pretend nothing was wrong?
How long could she pose that everything was fine?
Sleeping with Zach was arguably the worst thing I’d ever done. And it was something I did to myself. Yes, it hurt Rimmel and Romeo, but I was the biggest victim of my choice to sleep with him.
I released a groan and stepped forward, leaning my forehead against the shower wall. I stood so my head was past the spray, but it hit my shoulder blades and cascaded down my back.
Why couldn’t I let this go?
No one else was punishing me for it. Hell, no one else even brought it up. But it was still there, like an undercurrent in the ocean. You couldn’t see it, but once in the water, you could feel it. It’s like my brain wouldn’t let me forget.
So much so that now I was starting to see things. People. Him.
I heard things and felt things. I’d become paranoid and suspicious. I mean, geez, the bell over the boutique door couldn’t even ring without me going tense.
I knew I should talk to Braeden and tell him about the war inside me. I saw the worry in his eyes, the concern. We never spoke of it, but it was there.
The distance between us hurt me. He was the one person I wanted to be closest to. I wanted to give him all of me, even the parts I didn’t like.
He’d done that with me. He deserved the same.
I wanted it to be like it was just yesterday, when all we did was laugh and have fun.
I reached up and fingered the necklace that hung around my neck. I’d worn this every single day since he fastened it around my neck.
It didn’t matter I knew B loved me. It didn’t matter I saw it in his eyes. I was terrified, and it wasn’t going to go away until I told him about the turbulence inside me, about the unstable, cuckoo thoughts that just wouldn’t leave me alone.
After all, if what was going on inside me was enough to make me doubt even myself, then how could he not doubt me too?
Suddenly, the icy drops racing across my skin felt a whole lot colder. I jerked back from the spray and adjusted the heat. It warmed marginally, but not very much.
Teeth chattering, I rinsed out my hair one final time, then shut off the tap. I was grateful my towel was so fluffy and large. I quickly dried my hair and body, then wrapped myself in the softness.
I’d been so anxious for a shower, when I’d come in, I hadn’t taken the time to gather up my clothes and bring them into the bathroom. Not that it mattered. I was the only one home. Well, besides Prada of course.
The comb slid easily through my long hair, and my moisturizer felt like silk against my skin. I went through my routine on autopilot, not really thinking about it at all. I was suddenly so incredibly exhausted.
Exhausted from fighting.
Exhausted from feeling.
Holding the towel around me tightly, I switched off the bathroom vent and opened the door. The sound of Prada’s muffled barking immediately filled the air.
I frowned and glanced across the hall at our bedroom door. “Prada?”
When I’d gotten in the shower, she was in our room, dragging out every toy we gave her. She wasn’t in the bedroom now. Her barking was coming from down the hall.
Behind a closed door.
A creepy feeling crawled up my spine and goose bumps broke out along my bare arms. The door to the gym at the end of the hall was closed. We never closed that door.
How would Prada somehow shut herself in?
It wasn’t even possible. Was it?
And her bark… I knew that bark. It was her warning bark, the sound she emitted when she felt threatened or was approached by someone she didn’t know.
Terror skittered across my neck in tiny pricks that felt like stabs from a dozen tiny knives as I slowly padded down the hall.
My fingers ached from the intense grip I had on my towel. This was another one of those times when I could argue with myself about being crazy. About making stuff up or exaggerating things inside my head.
I wasn’t going to do that.
I wasn’t imagining this.
I was home alone, and somehow my dog got shut in a room behind a door no one ever closed.
“Prada?” I spoke, my voice shaky and a little weak.
Her barking paused and she scraped at the door.
I grabbed the handle, took a deep breath, and flung open the door.
Prada came racing out and danced around my feet. She sniffed me as my eyes searched the gym. Everything looked normal. Nothing seemed out of place.
Without thinking, I glanced down the hall, sweeping every shadow and corner. I’d laugh at my own ridiculousness—it was broad daylight after all—if I could stop the pounding of my heart.
Prada jumped on my leg, and I reached down to pet her. She licked my hand and then went trotting down the hall, sniffing as she went. I watched her pass by our bedroom door and stop at the top of the steps. Her ears perked up and she seemed to stand there listening. What she was waiting to hear I didn’t know.
My stomach turned and clenched with nerves.
Was someone in this house?
Was I not really alone?
There couldn’t be. I had the alarm set. No one could come inside without the code.
To prove my thought, Prada gave up listening and raced into the bedroom. A second later, I heard the squeaking of her favorite toy.
Odd.
On wobbly legs, I went to get dressed, ignoring the way the ends of my damp hair dripped down my back. I turned the corner and smiled, Prada was attacking her toy with serious vigor and dragging it across the carpet.
“You crazy girl,” I told her and stepped into the room.
Something on the edge of the bed stopped me in my tracks.
Rooted in place, I stared, confusion and terror warring within.
After an undetermined amount of time, I took a step forward.
And another.
And another.
I stared down at the red item on the comforter. It looked like blood against the pure white of the bed.
It might as well be blood. The memory it evoked felt like a knife wound, deep and jagged right across my chest.
And what lay beside it was even scarier.
Suddenly, I was bombarded with a flash of memory. And one more.
My stomach lurched. I felt sick, so insanely sick.
Blindl
y, I reached out and grabbed what was most definitely not there when I went to take a shower.
Something someone had to put there.
Something someone had to have all this time.
Someone I thought I’d seen.
I couldn’t deny what was in my hand, the horror replaying in my mind. I stumbled across the room, a sob wanting to rip from my chest but never making it out. I slid down the wall until I was tucked into the corner of the room, my knees against my chest.
I didn’t cry or yell.
I didn’t do anything at all.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Braeden
Something was wrong.
I didn’t know what or why. I only knew how off everything felt the second I walked into this house.
The dog wasn’t by the door. She didn’t race down the steps to greet me like she always did. The silence in here was stifling, almost painful.
My pulse spiked, anticipation or adrenaline pumping through my veins. Maybe a combination of both.
I wanted to call out her name. I wanted to rush up the steps and into our room. Something held me back. I stepped almost with hesitation, with a sort of sticky fear.
Dread formed in the pit of my stomach, so heavy if I’d been in water, I would have sunk to the bottom with no hope of finding my way to the surface. My foot paused midway up the stairs when Prada appeared at the top. I shared a silent look with the dog, and then she took off back into the bedroom.
I burst into action, racing the rest of the way to the top, and nearly catapulted into the bedroom, ready for some terrible sight. I never should have gone to the gym. I never should have let her come home alone…
But everything seemed fine.
Ivy wasn’t even in here.
I rubbed a hand over my head and blew out a breath. I opened my mouth to yell for my girl, when Gizmo came around the side of the bed and stared at me expectantly.
I crossed to her, bending to pick her up. But she skirted out of my way and planted herself on the carpet in front of something.
Someone.
Ivy was huddled in the corner of the bedroom, arms wrapped around her knees.
Her hair was wet; her face was pale. She wore only a towel, and the vacant, lost look in her eyes was the scariest thing I’d ever seen.
“Ivy.” Her name ripped from my throat.
If she heard, she gave no indication.
I dropped to my knees beside her, sweeping her over for injuries, looking for a reason for finding her this way.
Maybe if I could see a reason, I wouldn’t be so sick inside.
I was merely stalling. Going through the motions of trying to make sense of this. Deep down, I knew what happened. I knew why she was basically sitting here traumatized.
She knew.
Maybe she didn’t know everything.
But she knew enough. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why.
But I knew.
Cautiously, tenderly, I reached for her. My palm hovered over her bare shoulder before I allowed it to gently touch her.
When she didn’t flinch away, I counted it as a victory.
“Baby,” I whispered. “Ivy. What happened?”
She said nothing, but I felt the way her body trembled. Her skin felt cold to the touch. Slowly, I pushed her wet hair aside and trailed my fingertips lightly across the top of her back. A soft caress to hopefully bring her back from wherever she was. A gentle reminder she wasn’t alone.
I shifted so I was sitting down and inched just a little closer. “Ivy, please say something,” I whispered.
Her blue eyes shifted toward me. After a moment, they focused, and for the first time since I entered the room, I felt like she saw me.
“I thought I was going crazy,” she whispered. “All the things that have been happening.”
Alarm jackknifed beneath my ribs. What things? I wanted to demand, but I didn’t.
“I didn’t tell anyone. Not even you.” She went on.
“Oh, baby.” I said it like a vow. “You can tell me anything.”
“Someone was here, Braeden. In this house. In this room.”
My eyes sharpened and I felt my hackles rise. “What do you mean?” I said, harsh, all thought of being gentle forgotten.
I winced and quickly looked at her, but my tone didn’t seem to scare her. If anything, it seemed to jar her out of the state she was in.
“Someone left me something on our bed.” She glanced down.
I noticed the smallest scrap of something red sticking out of her clenched fist.
“What is it?” I leaned in, desperate for answers.
Ivy pulled her arm from around her knees and held out her hand, palm up. One by one, she opened her fingers, revealing a pile of red lace.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ivy
My lucky panties.
Lost.
Gone.
Never to be seen again.
Until they showed up on the end of my bed. The bed I shared with Braeden.
I loved these little red lacy thongs. They had a four-leaf clover on the right hip in gold glitter. Hence the reason I called them lucky.
The last time I saw them was the night before the big championship Wolves football game. The night I slept with Zach.
I’d woken up the next morning, hung over and partially disoriented. I was dehydrated for days. I was ashamed even longer.
After I’d showered and cleaned myself up, I picked up the clothes scattered around the room. I never found my panties. I was too ashamed to ask Rimmel if she’d seen them. I figured they’d turn up when we moved out of the dorm.
I didn’t find them.
I assumed I’d lost them on the way back to the dorm, in a drunken moment of passion.
I shuddered.
Beside me, Braeden tensed.
Oh God, Braeden. He was sitting here beside me, so sweet and concerned. I knew the hollow, almost vacant way I was acting was probably eating him alive. As much as I wanted him right now, a piece of me wished he wasn’t here. I didn’t want him to see me this way.
I hadn’t lost these panties that most certainly were not lucky that night.
There had been no drunken moments of passion.
There hadn’t even been consent.
“Ivy,” Braeden said in a cross between fear and worry. “You’re scaring me, sweetheart. Please say something.”
How was I supposed to speak when the memory wouldn’t stop hounding me? I clung to the hope that maybe it wasn’t a memory after all, but just a terrible dream. More evidence that I’d surely lost my marbles.
#
Muddled. Everything around me was so incredibly muddled. Even my own thoughts were unclear. What was happening? I knew it wasn’t good because the pit of dread and the feeling of stark horror clung to me. It stuck to my thoughts just like the fog that made it hard to think.
The familiar feel of my sheets was against my back, but I didn’t remember coming home. I thought I was with Missy at a party.
How did I get home?
I felt the mattress dip and tilt; my body shifted with the change in weight. But I wasn’t the one moving. My limbs felt like lead, too heavy to move.
But I knew I did want to move.
The unfocused image of someone rose above me. He had dark hair, and at first, I wanted to smile. Braeden had dark hair.
The sound of the man speaking blew away just a smidge of the clouds filling my mind. Just enough for me to realize this was not Braeden. This wasn’t someone worthy of my smile.
What the hell was Zach doing here? Hadn’t I told him to get lost? I was a lot of things, but I wasn’t the kind of girl who would come back to my room with someone as vile as him.
Wait.
Zach was in my room.
Panic, strong and sure, clawed at the back of my throat. I pried my eyes open, tried to hold them as wide as I could. Why was I so tired? What was happening to me?
I saw his lips move. I saw him smile. So
mething was wrong.
Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt? Why wasn’t I?
I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be here with him. I didn’t want to be half naked. I didn’t want to sleep with him.
My body jerked, and I stared up through hazy eyes at him. He tossed some clothes—my clothes—aside and then stared down at me.
“I just knew you’d have something slutty on beneath those clothes,” he said.
“Please, no,” I begged. It seemed like maybe I’d said that already.
I felt a touch along my hip and rough fingers probed below the band of my thong.
“No.”
Zach didn’t act like he heard me. Had I even spoken out loud?
Next thing I knew, my pair of lucky red thongs were dangled over my face.
Those things were soo not lucky.
“You mind if I keep these? A little reminder of the night I owned you?”
I tried to push myself up, to run away.
My body didn’t obey.
I tried to scream, to yell.
My voice was silent.
It was like my body was no longer my own to control.
It was like I was a third party, standing in this room, watching something horrible about to happen.
I couldn’t stop it.
Rough hands poked at my entrance, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Maybe being detached wouldn’t be so bad after all…
I didn’t go to sleep, but I didn’t really stay awake.
The statement “out of it” had never held more truth.
I felt the violation in my body. I felt the screams and cries echo inside me.
But even as I started to sob, I’d somehow slip away again…
Into nothing.
Nothingness was preferable to this.
#
I jolted back, hitting against the wall, and the thongs dropped like a weight onto the carpet beside me.
Braeden let out a gruff curse and reached for me.
I was up off the floor in seconds, cradled against his chest. He was warm. I didn’t realize I was so cold.
“Say something right now, Ivy, or I’m taking you to the damn hospital,” he demanded.
I huddled against him, pushed my cheek into his shoulder, and then I said three words a woman never wanted to say.
#Poser Page 23