Chapter 13 (Breslin)
“Oomph, sorry,” I say, quickly apologizing for bumping into someone as I make my way through the courtyard. “I—” My words fall as I come face to face with gray-blue eyes and the deepest set of dimples I've ever seen.
Well, except for his brother that is.
“Preston?” I question, still in disbelief.
“Well, if it isn't the girl from the wrong side of the tracks,” he replies, his tone clipped, angry even. Certainly not what I expected. Preston and I were never super close or anything, but we were always polite to one another.
He crosses his arms and looks down at me, like I'm the equivalent to a bug on his shoe. It's almost identical to the look his father used to pin me with and I feel myself shrink down. “What are you doing here, Preston?”
He side-steps me and I can't tell if it's because he's in a rush or doesn't want to talk to me.
“Sorry, no time for chit-chat—especially with someone like you.” He sneers the last word and I balk at him.
“I beg your pardon?” I snap, pride swelling in my chest because I'm finally sticking up for myself when it comes to people like him.
He rubs his chin and sniffs. “Look, I have nothing to say to you.”
I open my mouth to question him further, but he barks, “Stay the hell away from my brother, though. Lord knows you've hurt him enough, and the last thing he needs is you fucking up his life all over again when he's trying to put it back together.”
With that, he storms off and I'm left wondering what in the world he's talking about.
“I loved her so much,” Kit cries into my shirt and I rock her back and forth, my heart breaking for her.
I move her hair out of her face and cup her cheeks. “I know you did. She didn't deserve you, Kit.”
That only makes her cry harder. “I knew she was bi and liked guys, but she assured me she had relationships with women and that she wanted something serious.” She rubs her eyes. “Hell, she agreed to marry me, B. We started planning the date and everything.” Her lower lip quivers as she looks at me. “I mean, why would she do that if she didn't really love me the way I love her?”
Because she's a gold-digging whore.
I don't realize I've said that out loud until Kit shakes her head. “Her family has money.” She shrugs. “But who knows if she was lying to me about that, too.”
I envelop her in another hug and she cries her heart out some more.
“You have class in 20 minutes, B,” she whispers but I ignore her.
Class can wait, this is so much more important.
I wipe her damp face, but new tears fall, so I wrap her in my arms again. I'm pretty sure there's nothing on earth that sucks worse than consoling your best friend over a broken heart. I want to take all her pain on as my own.
Correction—I want that manipulative bitch Becca to take all her pain.
Rage trickles down my spine, plucking on my nerves and I stand up. Becca won't get away with cheating on my best friend.
Kit wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “I'm glad you're going. I don't want you to miss your favorite class because of me and my shit.”
I shake my head. “I'm not—” I stop and think better of it. “Actually, yes, I am going to Art class.” I reach for a paint stained sweatshirt. “But don't worry, because I'm coming back with ice cream and alcohol.”
Kit sulks. “I'm pretty sure that's not going to help.”
I plant a kiss on her forehead and reach for my purse. “Maybe not, but we can numb it away for a little.” I force her to look at me. “I love you, Kit. And it might not seem like it right now, but I swear you'll get through this.” I give her hand a squeeze. “We'll get through this.”
After I beat the living shit out of Becca that is.
She points to her bed. “I guess it goes without saying that I'm crashing here for a little while.” She closes her eyes. “I can't go back to that apartment just yet.”
“Kit.” When she looks at me, I say, “This is your dorm too.” I open the door. “I'll be back in a little while.”
Provided they don't lock me up for homicide.
I feel like I have ice running through my veins as I walk around campus, looking for her.
According to Landon she hasn't showed up at Kit's apartment and from what I remember when Kit rattled off her schedule a few days ago, Becca should be between classes now.
I take a left, deciding to check the courtyard once more. And that's where I find the blonde whore. Sitting on a bench, texting wildly on her phone.
“You bitch,” I sneer. A few people’s heads whip around, but I don't care.
When Becca finally looks up from her phone I snatch it from her hand and throw it. “How could you do that to her? How could you cheat on someone as amazing as Kit?”
She has the audacity to shrug. “Shit happens and better things come along.” She gives me an evil, condescending smile. “But why don't you date her, given you're up her ass all the time.”
My blood quickens and before I can talk myself out of it I snatch her hair with one hand and send a punch flying into her cheek with the other.
She tries to hit me back, but I don't give her a chance, I slug her again. I vaguely hear people shouting around me, but I ignore them.
A strong arm latches around my waist, but I disregard it and throw another punch. “Do you have any idea what it's like to be cheated on by the person you love?”
My vision is so blurry I'm not even sure if I'm hitting my target anymore.
Because suddenly, this isn't just about what Becca did to Kit. This is about those awful people that you fall in love with who end up breaking you in the end.
There's a sharp tug and then before I know what's happening, I'm being lifted high into the air and whisked away.
I'm crying so hard I can barely breathe let alone see straight, and those same strong arms cradle me against them.
When I finally manage to draw in a breath, a familiar masculine scent hits me like a brick to the head.
My stomach churns and I twist out of his arms. “Put me down, Asher.”
When he does, I go marching back toward a blubbering Becca, ready to go another round.
“Stop, Breslin,” Asher snaps, pulling me back.
I pay him no mind and charge forward, only to be picked up and tossed over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Stop it, asshole.”
He ignores me and begins walking, opening doors and making a few turns that have my head spinning.
I bang on his back. “I hate you.”
I'm aware that I sound like a five-year-old, but given he's no better due to his cave man antics, I don't care.
“Yeah, Breslin, I know you do.” His shoulders slump and he finally stops walking. “You can't go after her.”
I glance at the tiles on the floor. “I'm pretty sure that's none of your business. You gave up the right to have a say in my life and my choices three years ago.”
His grasp around my thighs hardens and I curse myself for the way heat coils low in my belly. My mind hates his touch...but my body obviously didn't get the memo and still craves it.
“I'm here because Preston fucked up and got involved with the wrong people and I need to settle his debt,” he says and I swear my heart stops.
I slap at his back, motioning for him to put me down again because the blood is rushing to my head and everything is zipping around me.
After he does and I gather my bearings, he continues, “And those wrong people? Are Becca's family.”
I clutch my heart. I don't give a shit about me...but Kit. “Oh my God.”
I start to walk away but Asher grabs my wrist, holding me in place. “I'm going to talk to him.” He lets go of my wrist and places his hands on his hips. “My assistant coach is one of them and Becca's uncle...I can speak to him and make sure everything is squared away and that you and Kit are fine.”
“I'm so confused,” I whisper and he nods.
“I know, baby. But I'm gonna take care of it.” My chest contracts and he puffs out a breath. “Breslin—”
When I hear the pinched tone of his voice, I hold up my hand, silencing him. “The second you say one word about our past this conversation is over.”
His jaw flexes and I know he wants to argue but he gives me another nod. “I respect that.”
A scoff escapes my lips and his eyes narrow. “Look if you're not ready to talk about our past I can deal, but it doesn't mean you can treat me like a fucking punching bag, either.”
I draw myself tight and look at him. “Fine. Now finish what you were saying. Specifically, the part about Becca and your assistant coach.”
I stand there shell-shocked for the next 15 minutes as he proceeds to tell me all about Preston's gambling problem, having to come here to play football against his will, and needing to win the championship or else.
A shudder runs through my limbs when I think about the —or else.
I rock back and forth on my heels, still stunned. “So that's why you quit Duke?”
Something passes in his gaze that I don't understand before he says, “Yeah.”
“Shit, your father must be going out of his mind.”
It's on the tip of my tongue to ask him why his father, who's loaded, doesn't just pay off Preston's debt, but he runs a hand down his jaw and says, “I wouldn't know. We're not exactly on speaking terms anymore.”
Sadness wraps around me with those words. Despite his protests that they didn't always get along, I know how much his relationship with his father meant to him.
“Was it because—” I struggle to find the words because they chip away at my heart like an ice pick.
His face goes slack. “Partly, yeah.”
I tell myself not to give in, because each moment I spend with him that barrier between us begins to thaw and I can't have that.
Fear settles over me and I raise my guard, because I'm afraid of what happens if I don't. Besides, just because his father is a jerk, it doesn't excuse what he did to me.
It doesn't excuse what he's still doing to me.
Like his relationship with Landon.
“I love Landon,” I tell him, praying to God he finally gets it. “He's good for me, Asher.”
All I can hear is the thud of my heart against my ribs as he draws in a slow breath and gestures to the art studio. “Come on, we should get to class.”
By the time we walk in, class is half over and students are working on their art projects in various corners of the room.
Asher grabs an easel, a set of paints, and a canvas and sets up shop in a far-off corner. I'm about to do the same but a touch to my elbow stops me and he motions for me to sit down.
The forceps around my heart constrict as I take a seat on the bench and stare at the blank canvas before me. I open my mouth to object but he shakes his head and leans down until his lips are hovering just above my ear. “I won't bother you, I promise.” A tremble erupts and my chest caves in when he kisses my temple. “Paint, baby.”
I draw in a shaky breath, pick up a brush...and I do.