We leave for, Spain on a redeye flight and, I don’t talk to Scarlet. What am I going to say to her?
Once we get there, I have so many interviews, photo shoots and signings that I don’t see Scarlet much and I think it’s for the better. And when I do see her, we barely speak.
She’s officially just an assistant, like she should have been from the beginning.
The day of the event, while the other guys enjoy the parties and girls, I have cameras in my face and microphones shoved at me. And I’m fine with it; it’s part of these events.
But at some point, I snap, probably because I’ve been holding so much in over the last few days, anything could have set me off.
I’m on my bike, nearing the preliminary runs, waiting for my turn when I see Jaime talking to Scarlet. When we arrived in Spain, I specifically told Scarlet, “Stay away from Jaime Neeley.”
I don’t trust him. I never will, for good reason. Why did I warn her?
At the event in Paris, there was a look in Jaime’s eyes I couldn’t ignore when he saw Scarlet.
My blood goes from cold to boiling in a second, and I’m ready to burst into flames. Throwing my leg over my bike, I hand it to Auden. “I’ll be right back.”
He tries to hold onto me, but he can’t.
Do you see the way Scarlet’s eyes widen when I approach them? Do you see the way Jaime smiles? He’s about to get his fucking teeth knocked in.
I grab Scarlet by the arm, harder than I intend to. “What the fuck are you doing talking to him? I told you to stay away from him.”
I don’t like it when people don’t listen to me. Shocking, huh?
Didn’t think so.
Scarlet blows me off, her hands fidgeting with the lanyard around her neck. “You’re overreacting, Shade. He was just asking me about your last run.”
“Am I?” I look to Scarlet. “Am I? That’s bullshit.” I turn to Jaime and point to the judges’ booth to the side of the arena. “You know my last run. It’s all over the fuckin’ big screen.”
Neither one of them says anything because they know I’m right.
I squint at Scarlet, feeling restless. “Stay away from him. You’re my personal assistant. Not his.” I may not have been talking to her, but I sure as shit wasn’t letting someone like Jaime Neely near her. Fuck that.
Jaime rolls his eyes. “Lighten up, kid. I was only talking to her.”
“Don’t,” I answer flatly, straight and to the point. No sense in sugarcoating this. Just wait, it’s about to get a lot worse. “Don’t talk to her.”
Jaime flashes me a smile and pats my shoulder. “Dude, c’mon. Stop acting like—”
Remember when I said it was about to get a lot worse? Watch. It’s time.
Jaime doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because I’m all over him, throwing fist after fist anywhere I can land the hits. Rage and fury blind me, consume my every thought to the point I black out, and it’s Rhya’s face I see in the back of my mind and Jaime on top of her.
It happens suddenly, and I’m right back in Glen Helen. Thirteen. That night.
I see the letter. The underlined thirteen beside the words, Glen Helen and underneath them, Jaime’s name.
How could he? How could she let him?
Only now, now I can do something about it. I have some control and I’m not fourteen.
Reece attempts to pull me back, as does Roan, while Tiller watches, uninterested.
Jaime has a split lip and his left eye is bleeding. I lunge for him, again, yanking him forward by his jersey. “I fucking know what you did to her, you sick motherfucker! You raped her. She was thirteen! Thirteen goddamn years old and you took something innocent from her,” I seethe, not caring that everyone in the staging area can hear. “She killed herself because of people like you who didn’t understand the meaning of no!”
Jaime smiles through the pain, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He nods. He doesn’t care, does he? You tell me, because the way it looks, he knows and doesn’t give a flying fuck what he did to Rhya.
I do, though. And he’s going to fucking pay for it.
“Here’s the deal, Shade.” He pauses, spitting blood to the side, straightening his posture. “Think what you want about that night, but know Rhya was a fucking liar. You should know that. She wanted it. She told you I raped her because that’s who she fucking is. The truth about that night? She waited until I was fucking shitfaced, came over and plopped herself on my lap and wouldn’t get off my dick.” It might be true, what he’s saying. Sure, I saw them that night and Jaime was on top of her, but still, she was thirteen. He should have stopped it.
His body tenses when I shove him, but he doesn’t make an attempt to hit me. Probably because he knows I’m questioning him. Is he telling me the truth? He could be and I wouldn’t know the difference because she’s dead and I can’t ask her.
“What did you think was going to happen with her, anyhow? You thought you could fix her?” He raises an eyebrow, jaw clenching as he reaches up and swipes his forearm over his bleeding eye. “She killed herself to save you. You were never going to let her go.”
What he’s saying might be true, but I certainly don’t want to hear it.