Forcing my feet to move, I call out for him again as I walk into the living space, horrified to find it in a similar condition. The couch is overturned, the TV is smashed to smithereens, and someone has taken a knife to Vander’s king-sized bed. Destroyed remnants of cushions, pillows, and bed linen coat the floors.
“Vander.” Spotting him sitting cross-legged on the floor, in front of the window, with his shoulders hunched over, I rush to his side. “What happened? Are you hurt?” I gasp as I crouch down beside him, spotting his shredded knuckles. The skin is torn and oozing blood. Judging by that and the paint splatters on his shirt, I know Vander is responsible for the devastation to his apartment. I swear if Greg has double-crossed me, I will murder the motherfucker. Gingerly, I lift his hand, but he swats it away, causing me to lose my balance and fall to the floor on my butt.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snaps, slowly lifting his head. His eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, and his skin is blotchy.
Prickles of apprehension dance over my skin, lifting all the fine hairs on the back of my neck. “What’s going on?”
“You tell me,” he says in a gritted tone, sniffling as he stares at me with the most forlorn expression.
“What do you mean?” My voice cracks as dread slithers down my spine.
“Where were you last night, Kendall?”
I hug my knees to my chest. “Working late. You know that. I told you.”
“You also told me you’d come by after, but you didn’t, and you ghosted me until this afternoon. Why?”
Fuck! He knows something! How? My mind is spinning, and I don’t know how to reply. I came here with a very specific purpose in mind. I had it all planned, and now I’m spiraling.
“Tell me it’s not true.” He lowers his voice as his eyes plead with mine. “Tell me you weren’t with my father.”
All the blood drains from my face, and every muscle in my body locks up as I realize what Greg has done.
“Oh my God.” Vander drops his head, staring at the floor as his shoulders shake.
I’m frozen as I stare at him, wanting to refute it and craving to comfort him, but I’m mute, and my brain is muddled as conflicting voices scream at me to do something to make this right.
“I knew he’d use you to get to me,” he says a couple of minutes later, breaking the tense silence. “I just never thought it’d be like this.” Tears well in his eyes, and pain stretches across my chest making breathing difficult.
Vander pulls his cell from his pocket, swiping the shattered screen with his thumb and shoving it in my face. “He sent me that today. Emailed from an anonymous email, but I know it was him.”
I stare in dazed realization as the video plays out on his phone. It’s the scene from my office last night, but it’s been doctored, and it comes off as a completely different situation. The sound has been muted, so the conversation can’t be heard, and it looks so damn bad. It looks like we’re consensually fucking. From the angle, you can’t tell my hands are handcuffed, only that they are stretched over my head, like he put them there and I’m obeying. I didn’t realize when I was trying to buck him off how it might look on camera. My back is arched, and my tits are thrust out with ample cleavage on view, thanks to the uncharacteristically slutty lowcut dress I’m wearing.
And…holy fuck.
I slap a hand over my mouth as I stare at my face on the screen with mounting horror. It looks like I’m enjoying it because that bastard has superimposed my face with footage from one of my lovemaking sessions with Vander. It’s been cleverly done. I only know it’s the truth because I know damn well the expression on my face was one of revulsion and terror.
A tear slips out of my eye before I can stop it. I can’t stop shaking, and I can’t speak over the lump wedged in my throat. I’m on the verge of a meltdown, and I don’t know what to do. I bury my head in my knees to buy myself some time before I completely lose it. That fucking double-crossing prick. I am going to end him. I don’t know how, but I will not rest until that man is either behind bars or buried six feet under.
How could he do this to his son? Was it not enough I was going to break his heart by walking away from him? Fuck that asshole. Fuck him to hell and back.
“Kendall.” Vander’s voice spears through me like an arrow, and the urge to throw myself into his arms and tell him it’s all a lie is riding me hard. “Look at me.” His tone is sharper and more confident. Slowly, I lift my head, peering straight into his eyes. I hug my knees tighter as I try to hold it together. “If there is something else going on here, if there is anything I need to know, now is the time to tell me.” His eyes delve into mine, in that intense way of his, and I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to use our connection to seek the truth, and I can’t give it to him. I can only give him the lie. If I tell him what he wants me to say—that his father sexually assaulted me and he’s blackmailing me with the threat of reporting me for statutory rape—he’ll walk out of here like a madman and commit murder. He won’t care about the consequences. He will just want that man dead.
I love him enough to willingly sacrifice any prospect of an us if it means I get to keep him safe and out of jail. Pulling myself together, I lift my chin up and stab him straight in the eye. “I’m so sorry, Vander. I never meant for it to happen; it just did.”
“Is that the truth?”
I nod, and it kills me to maintain eye contact, but I do.
He blinks successively, staring at me in shock, and his façade drops, showcasing the true extent of the pain I’m inflicting. I want to kill myself for ever putting that look on his face, but I can’t lose sight of the big picture. “You fucked my father?” he whispers. “You willingly fucked that psycho?”
I nod. “I was coming here to tell you it’s over. I didn’t know he was going to send that to you. I never wanted you to find out like that.”
He rubs at his chest, and the pain in his eyes mirrors the pain in my heart. “I don’t believe this.” He lifts his tear-filled eyes to mine. “How could you do this to me? Was everything a lie? Did everything we shared mean so little to you? Did I mean nothing to you?” His voice elevates at the end, and his features transform from sadness to rage.
I don’t know how I get these words out, but I somehow do. “We had fun, Vander, and I do care about you, but it was never going to work. It was always going to be temporary.” I shrug, like my heart isn’t splintering into millions of jagged pieces inside my chest. Like it doesn’t feel as if my soul is dying.
“Get out.” He seethes, piercing me with dark, angry eyes. “Get out and never come back.”
I scramble awkwardly to my feet, struggling to breathe over the agonizing pain ripping me apart on the inside. “I’m so sorry, Vander.”
“I said get out!” he roars, and I jump at the hostility in his tone. “Get the fuck out, Kendall! I never want to see your face again.”
I stumble from his apartment on shaky limbs, slamming against the wall as I tumble down the stairs with tears streaming down my face. Pushing out through the door, I stagger along the sidewalk like a drunk person, clutching my arms around my body as if that will hold me together. My feet slip over the gravel as I make my way to the parking lot behind the boxing club, and a sob bursts from my mouth when I can no longer keep my heartbreak inside.