Home > The Brentwood Boys (The Brentwood Boys #1-3)(70)

The Brentwood Boys (The Brentwood Boys #1-3)(70)
Author: Meghan Quinn

I dab at my eyes again as I try to choke out the next part of the story. “We uh . . . we had sex.”

“Gah, for the first time. Was it everything you imagined? How was his body? God, I bet it was amazing.”

“Read the room,” I say, causing her to zip her lips. “We had sex and it was . . . it was more than I could have ever asked for. We fell asleep and this morning when I woke up, he was gone.”

“Wait, what? Did he leave a note or anything?”

I shake my head. “No, I sent him a text, but nothing.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lindsay grows angry. “He fucked you and left?” I nod, unable to confirm the worst part of this story. “I’m going to kill him. That’s it. I’m buying a ticket to the game tonight, I’m going to somehow make my way to the locker room, and I’m going to murder him. What the hell was he thinking?”

Steadying my voice, I say, “I think he was trying to teach me a lesson, almost like, he got what he wanted from eight years ago, and now he can finally move on. I feel so cheap.” So small. How did he become that man? The arrogant son of a bitch who not only belittled me about where I live, but used me for sex with the intention to hurt me. He earns millions of dollars every year, and although I thought it would never go to his head, clearly it did. Did not see that coming.

Lindsay starts to pace, anger rolling off her. “I can’t imagine him being a dick. He’s always been so freaking nice, but then again, being an adult hardens you. And the way he was looking at you yesterday when he finally spotted you, he did not look like a happy man.” She spins around. “Good God, if this was all for revenge I’m literally going to lose it. Have you told Dottie? She knows people, she can make him disappear.”

Although my heart is shattered to pieces, I let out a little laugh. I love my friends so much.

“You’re the only one I could stomach telling right now.” I hear kids starting to filter in from their gym class, so I stand and wince from how sore I am. I lean forward and say, “And do you know what is awful? I swear I can still feel him between my legs with every move I make. I’m so sore. It’s just a constant reminder of what happened.”

The kids’ voices get louder, so Lindsay presses her hand to my shoulder and whispers so no eager children hear her. “Don’t worry, after work, we’re having an emergency meeting with Dottie. He’s going down.”

I chuckle and nod, one more stray tear falling. I quickly wipe it away, as the kids come scampering in.

“Hi, Miss Ealson,” all the kids call out. I give them masked smiles and head back to the library where I’ll try to hold it together for far too many more endless hours.

 

 

“Are you really not going to tell me?” Cora asks, as we clean up the library, shuffling through all the returned books.

“Unless I want to break down again, I’m going to keep my lips sealed until after school lets out. Which is three more hours.”

“Do you want to grab something from the corner for lunch with me?”

I press my hand to my stomach and shake my head. “No, I’m not very hungry.”

“Which means you probably don’t want me to bring you anything back either.”

“No, it would just be wasting money. Thank you, though. I really appreciate it.”

“Okay.” She lets out a long sigh. “I feel bad leaving you here. Maybe you want some fresh air?”

“I’m really going to be a Debbie Downer here, Cora. I want to hide in a hole right now.” Plus walking anywhere, even if just down to the corner deli, seems like a nightmare. I’m so sore, and I’d rather not be reminded with every step what I did last night, what happened. How he treated me. Rejected me.

“Fair enough. I know the feeling. Well, I have my phone, so if you need anything, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

When Cora leaves, I head to the office and check my phone for the fiftieth time since this morning. There are three text messages, but none from Knox.

Leaning back in my chair, I open up the text messages.

Dottie: Lindsay sent me a text, told me in brief terms what went down. Emergency meeting tonight.

Dottie: Come to my place. I’ll have Yan make us those delicious crab cakes.

Dottie: I have a private investigator. We’re going to bring this motherfucker down.

I laugh at the last text before more tears stream down my face. It’s like there’s no cure to stop them, no matter how hard I try.

Not in the mood to text her back, I set my phone down and rest my arms on the desk and my head on my arms. I take that moment to soak in the overwhelming sorrow. The heartache that seems to be walking over me like a dark cloud, never letting up.

I thought . . . God, I thought that after he confessed his love, he’d want me. I was so wrong. It’s just unfathomable that he would be so mean. He’s never hurt me like this, then again, he made it quite clear how badly I hurt him.

But to seek vengeance, it doesn’t—

Knock. Knock.

I prop my head up just as the door opens, Cora’s head popping through the crack.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yup.” I give her a fake smile and wipe at my eyes. “Fine. Was there something you need?”

She bites on her bottom lip just as the door swings open wider and Knox stands on the other side.

My heart seizes in my chest from the mere sight of him—again—and when he excuses himself past Cora, thanking her and closing the door, I lose all ability to breathe. From behind his back, he holds out a bouquet of flowers and then studies my face, confusion in his expression.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft.

What’s wrong? He can’t be serious.

What is happening right now?

Is he really here, standing in front of me, holding a bouquet?

“Wh-why are you . . . here?” I swallow hard, my voice cracking with emotion.

“Why are you crying?” He rounds the desk and kneels in front of me, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

Babe?

Am I missing something?

“You . . . you left. This morning, when I woke up, you were gone, and when I texted you, you didn’t respond.”

“I told you I had morning weights, and I would see you for lunch.” His brow knits together. “Em, I left you a note.”

“What?” My mouth quivers. “Where? I didn’t see it.”

“On your nightstand, next to your phone. Jesus, did you think I left you without saying a damn thing?”

Shamefully, I nod. “I thought you got what you wanted after eight years and left.”

“Fuck . . . no. Christ, Em, I told you I loved you last night. Does that not mean anything to you?”

“I’m sorry.” I bury my head in my hands, relief starting to ease up my spine. “I didn’t know what to think. Everything has happened so fast, seeing you again, falling for you all over again, spending the night with you. I’m honestly a mess.” He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close, hugging me. “I love you, Knox, and after last night, when I woke up without you in my bed, I couldn’t fathom what happened. Maybe I wasn’t as good as you thought, maybe I wasn’t the same girl, maybe I wasn’t—”

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