My eyes meet his as I speak through clenched teeth. "He showed me a picture and a small snippet of a video of him and Harloe having sex under the school bleachers. Said she came on to him, and since I had taken his spot on the baseball team,” I grit my teeth in remembrance, “my sophomore year as pitcher, he wanted to get back at me. Said he didn't think it'd be a big deal."
"Owen!" My mom turns her head, completely aghast by his actions. "Please, tell me that's not the truth. We come over here for a nice dinner and walk in to find you and your brother fighting. All because of a lie.”
Owen grumbles before spitting blood out onto the floor as he sits up with a grimace. "I didn't think he actually loved her, so I didn’t see it as a problem."
My mouth fishes open as rage threatens to consume me once more. I start toward him, and it takes my dad putting a hand on my chest to force me to a stop. I meet his eyes, so much like my own, and in them, I can see pleading. I cock a brow in return, silently communicating that I don't give a shit.
"Even I'm smart enough to know Harloe would never sleep with you. She hated you for the way you treated her." My mom crosses her arms and steps back, surprising me when she doesn't offer to help Owen to his feet.
Looks like the good son he is no more.
He gets up on his own, grunting from the effort. Coming to his full height, he dashes at the line of blood flowing from his broken nose. Seeing the red substance must enrage him because the next we know, he’s picking up the chair he was sitting in and throwing it over the balcony with a guttural yell.
"I had to do it, okay?!" He huffs and puffs, fighting for control.
My dad pipes up, his dark voice demanding an explanation. "Owen, you better speak before I bend you over my knee."
Owen's eyes meet his, and then my mom’s, before finally settling on mine. And what he tells us is so horrific, so downright disgusting, I don't even know what to do or what I should start processing first.
Ultimately, I don't even know how I should begin to have this conversation with Harloe. She deserves to know the reason for my actions all those years ago. And I know she knows the gist of it, but I need her to know everything. No matter how good, bad, or ugly. That’s the only way she will know why I did what I did.
Owen didn't ruin our lives alone. He wasn’t even the ringleader. He’d been betrayed just like me.
By the time Hunter finishes telling me everything, I'm nearly on the edge of my seat and threatening to lose my lunch.
"Cassandra?" I ask to make sure I heard him right. “She set it up?”
Rubbing a tired hand over his face, he replies wearily, "Yeah. Apparently, that was her he was fuckin'. Not you. Don't know why I couldn't tell the difference."
I can, and there's no explanation necessary, even though it's like some sick joke. "Hunt, she and I looked almost identical, from behind. We had the same hair length, body type, and all. But, the voice ... " I trail off.
He shakes his head, catching my eyes. "That's where it fucked me up. The girl on Owen's lap never said a word. She got off on his lap with your name on his lips. The only person who said shit was O."
"But if he was with her, then why was he saying my name?"
By the way Hunter looks away, I know there's more to the story. So much more. A knot rises into my throat at the implication of everything that transpired in that video, and I know, without a doubt, I'm going to hate what he has to tell me. But I also know that I need to hear it. To know why our future was thwarted in such a manner that nothing about it is salvageable.
"Hunt?" I lean forward, trying to catch his gaze.
His eyes close like he's pained. "Owen had a crush on you. Cassandra told him he could fuck her, but ... "
My head tilts in confusion, eyebrows slanting as I try to piece together what he's saying. For several minutes, we're both silent, his eyes pleading with me not to make him continue, and my mind running a thousand miles an hour.
I start to think I'll never piece it together, and that I'll have to ask him, even though I know it pains him to talk about it. When I open my mouth to ask, that's when it hits me like a ton of bricks.
My mouth falls open in equal parts shock and disgust. "Oh, my God. She said he could say my name, didn't she? She knew he had a crush on me and used it against him. To make it seem like he was with me?"
Hunter nods.
"And she videoed him, and then ... Oh, shit!" I grasp my face between my hands and then run them through my hair. "She used that video as blackmail."
He nods. His sad eyes find mine. "Cassandra wanted me, Owen said. She told Owen he could fuck her and pretend it was you, and at least then she could say she’s ridden one Prince’s dick. She seduced him at school under the bleachers, and because he was stuck on you something fierce, it worked. He never expected her to use the tape against him. At the time, she was fifteen, and he'd just turned eighteen. With the way he was holding her ... "
Hunter visibly swallows, barely able to finish his explanation. "With the way he held her—” he demonstrates by putting a hand on the back of his head and around his back, “—she could have cried rape because of his dominating position. She threatened to do just that."
"So, O lied?"
"Yeah. He would rather I hate him than go to jail for statutory rape. He just never thought losing you would break me so badly."
Same here. Losing Hunter was one of the worst experiences I've ever had in my short life. The allegation against me wasn't even worse than his absence. Honestly, I don't even know how I did it without anyone intimately beside me. Like, having a constant co-parent for Maverick. But I did, and I can't fault what happened between us. Because what happened between us made me the person I am today—a fiercely protective mom to a two-year-old mini-me of Hunter Prince.
I'm not going to sit here and say that what happened didn't make me mad. Oh, there for a long time, I was completely engulfed in rage. Through my entire pregnancy, with each kick and roll of Maverick in my stomach, I couldn't stop the blistering hatred from nearly consuming me.
Hunter had tossed me out, and to now find out that it was all because of that heinous bitch he's been fucking for the past three years doesn't make it any better. He—we—fell right into her trap.
“Leaving nearly destroyed me,” I can’t help but whisper. “Every day, I wanted to die. Dramatic, right?” I laugh. Because if I don’t, I’m libel to cry from just the echo of pain I feel cramping my chest.
Actually, we don't have anyone to blame but ourselves. In all reality, Hunter is the one to blame. If it weren’t for his actions, I have no doubt we’d still be together. He’s the one who allowed lies to twist his insides into knots. He's the one who didn't have enough faith in our love and relationship that he allowed some pathetic girl to ruin it.
"It's not dumb." He shakes his head forcefully. "You could never be dumb, baby. What I did was dumb. I didn't believe you, and I should have. I allowed my emotions to rule my decision. Fuck. There wouldn't be a way for you to ever forgive me, would there?" he questions, looking at me expectantly.