Earning Her Trust: Braxton Arcade Book One

by Adore Ian

  “You didn’t fuck this up,” she whispers. “I did. I broke up with you because that was easier than letting you in.”

  I can see her walls coming down, and I have to rein in the urge to shout from the fucking rooftops. When I do, I remember how much she hates public emotions.

  “So you agree,” I say teasingly. “We were dating.”

  The smile that curls her mouth is enough to stop my heart and vanquish any awkwardness between us.

  She wipes her eyes. “I need to go before I embarrass myself. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

  “It’s a date.” I wink.

  Tears of relief flood her eyes as she turns and walks away. I fight the need to run after her just so I can take her home and fuck her till she’s begging to be my girlfriend.

  My inner alpha male is a gross Neanderthal and I have zero fucks to give about it.

  Holly comes over and holds out my beer. But before I grab it, two things happen.

  The first is that Jake the Jackass steps in front of Marrin, looks right at me and practically yells, “Pretty Boy finally kicking your ass to the curb? I told you you’re not good enough for these people.”

  The second is that he grabs her arm, preventing her from walking away.

  Oh. Hell. No.

  19

  Marrin

  When I got up from the table to follow Damian to the bar, I honestly thought this night couldn’t get any worse.

  Then he ordered two beers, one for himself and one for Holly. It felt like someone pushed me off a cliff and I was falling. I couldn’t move or think.

  Then he said he didn’t want to talk to me, and I didn’t know whether to cry right then and there or try and make it to the bathroom first.

  Then Holly popped up. And she was lovely and nice and Damian introduced me as “Vicky’s friend, Marrin.” The whole world just… hollowed out. All I could think was, Vicky’s friend. I’m Vicky’s friend. Not his friend. Or just Marrin. I’m Vicky’s friend, Marrin.

  It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did because I put myself in that position. I made Damian my secret, so what did I really expect?

  But even after all that, after I ran away and he chased me and I confessed this whole mess was my fault, did I think—for a second—this night could get any worse.

  Boy, oh boy, was I wrong.

  I’m on my way to tell Tiana I’m getting a cab home, when Jake obstructs my path.

  Misinterpreting my tears, he looks at Damian and shouts, “Pretty Boy finally kicking your ass to the curb? I told you you’re not good enough for these people.”

  Mortification bleaches my face. Everyone around us quiets, stares.

  “Out of my way.” I shove past him, but he grabs my arm.

  My rage skyrockets.

  “Let go of me. Now.” I’m seconds away from kicking him in the balls and making a scene. He might be my friend, but no one puts their hands on me without permission.

  “Let her go,” Damian orders. I turn around and he’s right behind me, closing in fast.

  Jake straightens. “And if I—”

  “Stop it,” I command, getting between them. “Please don’t do this. Jake didn’t mean it, he’s just joking. Right, Jake?”

  Why am I protecting this jackass?

  Disbelief contorts Damian’s face. I shoot him a wide-eyed, pleading look to back down. He blinks.

  Jake yanks my arm and I crash into him.

  Damian lurches forward.

  I regain my footing and hold up a hand. “I don’t need you to defend me, Damian,” I shout, authority and fear twisting my voice. I know he hears both because he starts calculating, assessing the situation like it’s a puzzle he’s almost put together.

  Jake chuckles. “Run along, Ivy League. She’s not good enough for you any—”

  Damian’s fist stops an inch from Jake’s jaw. Jake flinches back, letting me go.

  “Wrong, Jackass,” Damian says viciously, stepping between me and Jake. “She’s better than all of us. Especially you.”

  I realize we’re surrounded by a crowd of people.

  My heart rate climbs.

  “I get it now,” Jake spits, embarrassed and livid. “Ivy League doesn’t know why you’re not good enough, does he?”

  “Jake,” I warn, coming around Damian. “Please, please.”

  “Outside. Now,” Vicky growls, suddenly beside me.

  Jake looks her up and down, before focusing on me. “She’s the only one who knows—”

  “Out. Side,” Vicky demands.

  Damian shoots me a look that says, Knows what?

  Jake’s smile drips with malice. “Marrin’s old lady’s in prison—”

  “JAKE,” I shriek.

  “—for trying to kill her own kid.”

  No, no, no, no, no.

  Deafening numbness slams into me like a meteorite hitting the planet. I swear I see the world crumble around me. Seconds pass, hours maybe.

  Everyone knows.

  I can’t look at Damian. At Vicky. I think I’m looking at Jake, but I’m not sure because my brain has stopped registering colors and shapes and details—

  Oh God, everyone knows.

  From somewhere far away, I hear Jake say, “Don’t worry. She makes ends meet by taking off her—”

  Jake hits the ground.

  Vicky snarls, “This is why we can’t have nice things, jackass.”

  Then everything happens very quickly.

  Chaos erupts in the bar. Vicky and Tiana grab my arms. Cold air assaults me as they drag me outside. A car door opens, I’m stuffed into the backseat, then we’re flying down the road.

  I don’t know when I start crying, all I know is tears are soaking through my jeans.

  Then we’re suddenly at my apartment. I’m on my couch next to Tiana and Vicky, and I just start talking. It begins with, “I’ve been sleeping with Damian,” and ends when I’ve confessed the whole story.

  And I mean the whole story.

  Everything about Damian and I, and all the parts Tiana doesn’t know about my life. For so long, Vicky has been the only one of my friends who knows everything because she happened to call my phone after Jake got me to a hospital. It’s liberating and terrifying to confess because Tiana comes from the same slice of society as Damian.

  When I finish, I wait. Hands shaking.

  If Tiana looks at me like everyone did at that party sophomore year when I put a guy in the hospital, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  Tiana slumps back, staring at the coffee table. “Shit. I mean… Shit. When I left my house tonight, the biggest problem in my life was deciding where to party for my birthday next weekend, but now…”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Her head whips to me. “For what?” She throws her arms around me. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I feel like the worst friend.” She pulls back and I see nothing but love and compassion in her eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I have no idea how hard it must have been to carry that around and to feel like you couldn’t tell anyone. I want you to know you can always tell me anything. I’ll take your secrets to my grave, and as a policy, I’m a judgment-free zone.”

  “Thanks.” We hug again and then Vicky joins in and we’re all one big pile of hugging, teary-eyed humans. When we break apart, I take a deep breath. “What do I do now? The whole bar heard what Jake said. And Damian…”

  How can I face him now? There is no way to undo this kind of damage. I should’ve just told him about my mom weeks ago.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about Damian,” Tiana says. She jerks a thumb at Vicky. “While this one was running her mouth, his focus was only on you. Pretty sure he punched Jake to get him to shut up.”

  “Agreed,” Vicky says. “And who cares? If he can’t accept all of you, then he’s a douchebag who ain’t worth your time, babe.”

  I nod.

  There’s a knock on my door.

  “Marrin?” Damian calls, from the other side. “Y
ou there, baby?”

  Damian

  Marrin’s mother tried to kill her.

  My mind is still reeling.

  When she got between me and Jake, I was furious. I couldn’t understand why she’d let him put his hands on her. But it was the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice that had me backing down. She was scared, but not for the obvious reasons.

  It wasn’t until Jake had spouted some shit about me not knowing why he thinks Marrin isn’t good enough, that I figured out she wasn’t protecting him or me. She was protecting herself.

  Then he’d gone and done it. Told a room full of people Marrin’s deepest, darkest secret.

  Marrin’s mother tried to kill her.

  It still sounds fake in my head, like someone else’s reality or the plot of a movie.

  After he’d said it, all I could think about were the scars on her stomach. The scars she’d hidden from me for four months.

  Everything about Marrin made sense in that moment. The scars she carries are as much physical as they are mental and emotional.

  When Jake had started talking, the color drained from Marrin’s face. I’d thought she might pass out. She’d screamed at him to stop and I swear I felt the pain in her voice like an icicle piercing my heart.

  And the bastard had kept talking. Kept trying to bring her down and—

  I fuckin’ snapped.

  I laid Jake out flat on the ground with a right hook to the face. Jackass never saw it coming. My only regret is not getting the opportunity to hit him again.

  Half the bar stepped in to keep us apart. I remember running my mouth. Remember telling him he was the worst kind of person because he preys on people’s insecurities and tries to bring them down with him. I remember Jayce getting up in my face and telling me to “shut the fuck up” because while I might’ve grown up rich and privileged, the cops were going to see me as just another college kid who hit a guy at a bar.

  That was a sobering moment.

  Luckily, most of the people in the place were on my side and the cops were chill. It helped that Jake the Jackass had a history of fighting and run-ins with the law. No one wanted to press charges, so no one got a ticket or spent the night in jail.

  We got lucky.

  I grabbed Marrin’s jacket from the table before we left. Devon went home, Hayden drove my Jeep, and Jayce followed us to my apartment.

  I’m not sure how long we’ve been sitting in my living room, but I finally pull out my phone and see the texts Marrin sent at the bar. I feel like a total ass for not reading them earlier. I stare at the screen, wondering if I should text her an apology. But what the fuck do I even say?

  Marrin’s mother tried to kill her.

  “Fuck,” I growl. Jayce and Hayden go silent. I bury my head in my hands. “Jackass just shared her trauma with a room full of people. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? How do I make this all right?”

  I jump up to pace because I can’t sit still.

  “She’ll never speak to any of us ever again,” I say.

  “You don’t know that,” Jayce placates.

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Is she really a—”

  “Finish that sentence,” I growl, “and I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from hitting you, dude.”

  I know he was about to ask if Marrin is a stripper. Jake said enough for anyone with half a brain to put it together. When I told Jayce and Hayden about me showing up at Marrin’s other job, I left out the part about her dancing. Not because I was ashamed or anything, but because it’s not my secret to share.

  “Okay children,” Hayden says, holding up his hands. “Let’s get back on track. Dame, you obviously know her better than the rest of us, so your judgment on what to do next will probably be better than anything we can suggest. But I’d go with either calling her or going over and seeing if she wants to talk. I’d advise against sending a text because that seems kinda douchey.”

  “Little bit,” Jayce agrees. He pulls out his phone. “FYI she’s home right now. Vicky’s been texting me. Needed to let me know she wasn’t bailing me out of jail. True love ladies and gentlemen.”

  Hayden chuckles, but I’m not paying attention. I grab Marrin’s jacket and head to her door.

  I knock. “Marrin? You there, baby? You don’t have to answer. I have your jacket…” I rest my forehead on her door. “I’m sorry about tonight. About all of it. I need you to know I don’t care what anyone said or claimed. I told you my secret and I’m still waiting for you to tell me yours. I’ll wait however long you need, however long it takes. I don’t care. I love you. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

  I wait. And wait. And when I realize she’s not coming out, I turn and leave.

  Halfway to my apartment, I hear locks slide and the sweep of an opening door. My heart skips, thinking it’s Marrin, but when I turn around, it’s Vicky stepping into the hallway.

  “Is she okay?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I think so. She just needs time.”

  I pass her the jacket and nod.

  “She heard you, though.”

  I nod again and start retreating. “Sorry I broke your dating rule.”

  She snorts. “That rule was for your benefit more than anything.” At the confused look on my face she adds, “You went down on my friend at that house party in high school and… you were traumatized.” She shrugs. “I knew you were too freaked out to try being intimate with anyone for a while, so I set the rule so you’d have an excuse. It just worked out that my friend from the party wanted more from you, and I don’t know, over time enforcing the rule just became a thing I did.”

  I blink. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  20

  Marrin

  The next night, I unlock the door to my apartment and slip inside.

  I spent the entire day hiding at the 13th Floor, still too mortified by what happened. I texted Damian and told him I was too ashamed to face him and he respected that. He told me that when I’m ready to talk, he’s ready to listen.

  I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.

  How do I explain what it feels like to be attacked by your own mother? To be so unwanted by the person who gave you life that she decided to take it away? Then add a crazy stalker on top of it all and it’s gonna take a three part episode of Dr. Phil to explain how messed up and insecure I am.

  I pause on the way to my bedroom, looking for the right key. There are five keys on the loop. One to my apartment, my car, my mailbox, my bedroom…

  And one to Damian’s apartment.

  He never asked for it back and I never offered.

  I’ve been carrying it around this whole time.

  I toss my keys on the coffee table and sit on the couch, staring at Damian’s key.

  I lean back and my eyes fall on the opposite end of the sofa. A small dent is beginning to form in the cushion. The fabric showing the first signs of age.

  I’ve never noticed.

  Since I bought the couch, it’s looked brand new because I’m the only one who ever uses it. I also always sit in the same spot.

  This new weathering isn’t from me.

  It’s from Damian.

  There is a Damian-shaped indentation in my couch.

  That was his spot. Where he’d sit when he came over. Where I’d let him sit when he came over.

  The refrigerator magnet he gave me catches my eye.

  The coasters on the coffee table.

  The poodle pillow I’m holding in my arms and the air plant sitting on the countertop.

  All around the room—my once empty, lonely apartment is filled with things. Imprints of Damian. Signs of his existence, that he was here. Him.

  He’s everywhere I look.

  Yet nowhere to be found.

  I curl up in Damian’s spot. This is where he sat the night he brought me medicine and a heating pad and a blanket. The same night he became the first person ever to watch a movie with me in my apartment. He l
aughed in this spot, joked in this spot…

  Told me he loved me in this spot.

  I pick up one of the Cat People coasters he left me. It shows Irena and says, “She was marked with the curse of those who slink and court and kill by night!”

  Clarity hits me like sunrise after a storm. I sit up.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  This whole time, I’d thought I was the femme fatale. Thought I was Irena—doomed to suffer the consequences of a past I hadn’t chosen, a past that would eventually catch up with me and cost me Oliver. Or in my case, Damian.

  But I’m not Irena and Damian isn’t Oliver.

  I’m Oliver. I’m married to Irena—aka my emotional baggage—and if I don’t divorce her, she’ll turn into a bloodthirsty panther and destroy me. Or worse, she’ll destroy Alice Moore. And I can’t allow that because Damian is Alice Moore in this weird analogy and Oliver has to end up with her. They’re best friends. They’re perfect for one another.

  Damian didn’t just leave a mark of his presence on my couch or my apartment, he left one on me—in me.

  It’s okay to be vulnerable.

  I grab my phone, find the right number, and hit send.

  “Tiana? I have an idea about what we can do for your birthday.”

  21

  Damian

  “This place is hella fancy, Tia,” Vicky says as we walk up to the bar.

  Tiana theatrically flips her braided hair over a shoulder. “Thank you.”

  We’re in the city at a new club called White Rabbit. It’s high end but not stuffy. The interior is all dark, moody colors, and there’s a bit of a lounge feel to the room. Comfortable seating and tables line the walls, centering on a low stage just a few feet off the ground. It juts out into the middle of the room and I think it’s for dancing but I can’t tell. My guess is the place turns into more of a dance club later in the evening. I guess we’ll find out.

  I order a whiskey on the rocks and tell the bartender to put Tiana’s drinks on my tab. She is the birthday girl, after all. Once we all have a beverage we head over to a roped-off section at the end of the stage.