Because I trusted him.
But there was no reason to have a party and not tell me. Nothing had been officially said out loud. Was I his girlfriend? Was I not? Who the fuck cared what we called it? He cyberstalked me, I gave him my body, and he pulled a knife on me! That shit affords me some kind of fucking explanation.
He didn’t know I loved him, but he damn well knew I cared. What was his problem?
I pulled into Tate’s empty driveway, already seeing the packed street and cliques of people carousing on his lawn.
I turned off the car and let out a tired breath, looking over at his house.
Everything was fine.
I closed my eyes, listening for a minute to Devour the Day’s “Good Man” blasting from the house.
Everything was fine. I was overreacting.
He was worried about his father and wanted to get drunk or something, and he didn’t want me to see. That was all.
He’s still mine. I would keep repeating it to myself until I started to believe it.
I climbed out of the car and didn’t break pace as Shane came running up beside me on the front lawn.
“Do you want me to go in first?” she asked, out of breath.
“Why?”
“He’s having a party, and he didn’t tell his girlfriend.” She sounded worried, as if there would be drama.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I whispered.
I’m just his. I rubbed the chill from my naked arms, missing the blanketing warmth of his skin.
We walked into the house through the wide-open door and took in the sight of more people than I had ever seen at a party here before. I let my eyes drift up the stairs, seeing people head up and down and wondering where Jax was in this mess.
Was he wasted? Was he outside with his toys like last time? Was he even here?
Peering into the living room, the heavy smell of smoke hit me, and I saw dancers standing on the wooden coffee table. Two girls—still dressed, thank God.
The room was trashed, though. The partiers had made short work of spreading their Solo cups and beer bottles, spilling their drinks, and moving furniture around. A couple of pictures even hung off balance.
I narrowed my eyes. This party had been going for a while.
Walking into the family room, I scanned for Jax, my stomach twisting tighter when I didn’t find him.
A guy swayed past me, stumbling over his feet, and the couple in the corner had lost their inhibitions completely.
Men roared from the kitchen, clothes were coming off, and everyone was wild.
Everyone was wasted.
I tucked my hair behind one ear and pushed through the kitchen, wincing when I noticed two girls in their bras playing some drinking game at the table.
What the hell? Jax didn’t let shit like this happen. People respected his house and his belongings, and people kept their clothes on.
I stepped onto the back porch, instantly smiling through my relief.
There he was.
Playing with his toys, of course.
He was smiling, the black pants that I loved hanging low on his waist, and his long, muscular torso looking utterly gorgeous. His face was easy and relaxed, and he combed his hand through his hair, making my stomach flutter. I thought I saw him glance my way, but then someone said something to him, distracting him.
Everything was fine. He didn’t even look drunk, either.
He laughed at something a friend said and then tossed his wrench into a box on the table. And then I watched, my smile falling, as he came up behind a girl …
… pulling her hips into his and burying his mouth into her neck.
What …
My breath shook, and I shot my eyes down to the floor, trying to steel my face, but the tears pooled anyway.
No.
I quickly glanced back up, desperately trying to keep the fucking tears away.
What the hell? My heart hammered, flooding my body with a nervous energy, and I fisted my shaking hands over and over again.
His fingers held her waist, and I could see her grinding her ass into him as her blond head fell back against his chest. His hand splayed across her stomach, bare in her half shirt, and his mouth touched her skin.
I clutched the wooden post in front of me, watching as he turned her around and let her put her arms around his neck.
I looked away again, wincing. He wasn’t doing this. I knew Jax.
My mother, my father, Liam, no one got me, but Jax got me. We made each other better. He would never do this.
“Oh, my God,” Shane whispered beside me, seeing what I saw.
I stood up straight, the ache in my chest making me want to crumble and cry instead.
Walking down the steps, I saw Jax’s eyes fix on me almost immediately. His back straightened, and the girl with her hands all over him turned, following his gaze.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at Madoc’s?” He sounded pissed, dropping into a cushy lounge chair and bringing the girl down into his lap as if I was of no consequence.
“You son of a—,” Shane barked, but I shot out my arm, stopping her.
I steeled myself and stood there, looking at him.
Only him.
Into those blue eyes that were mine, at least for a while.
I ignored his hand rubbing her thigh. It didn’t hurt.
He was touching someone else, and I didn’t want to scream, and my heart didn’t bleed a thousand times worse than when I’d lost my father.
I clenched my fists and let the fucking lump sit in my throat.
It didn’t hurt.
“Is she your girlfriend?” the blonde asked.
Jax smiled his cocky smile and touched her stomach, his thumb grazing under her shirt. “Well, if she is, I hope she plans to share.” He kissed her cheek. “You’re too sweet to give up.”
She let out a quiet laugh and inched her lips into his face. “You just like me because I let you do anything you want to me.”
Jax smiled, letting his head fall back as he looked up at me. “If you want to join in, we can all go up to the room.”
Shane immediately hooked my arm from behind to pull me back, but I yanked it free, scowling down at Jax.
I’d always told myself that I deserved good things—that I was worthy—but fuck if I ever believed it. You can’t tell yourself anything. Your heart only believes what it feels, and experience is the best teacher.
I reached forward, grabbed the girl’s arm, and yanked her off Jax’s lap.
“Hey,” she whined, but I planted my hands on his armrests and glowered down at him.
His gorgeous face watched me.
“Why?” I demanded.
His eyes narrowed. “Because I can.”
I shook my head. “This isn’t you. You’re not cruel, and you don’t want her. Why are you pushing me away?”
“It’s just summer fun,” he retorted. “Now fuck me or fuck off.”
I dug my nails into the chair, searching his eyes for anything soft. Anything warm and mine. Anything I could recognize.
But all I saw was his sick smile.
“I barely see her,” I whispered, baring my teeth. “I only see you. Your father didn’t make you unclean. The shit you’ve been through didn’t make you dirty. This,” I seethed, pointing at him and growling low, “this—right here, right now—is what makes you scum.”
I pushed off the chair and backed up, seeing his eyes turn dark and wanting the guy who could barely control himself in the kitchen last week when I’d made him dinner. The guy who was jealous my ex-boyfriend called. The guy who called me his girl.
I wanted him to carry me up to his room and close the door so we could be lost in each other as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.
But he just sat there.
I’d fought for Liam and look what that got me. It was someone else’s turn to fight for me.
I turned and left, letting the hot tears fall. It fucking hurt. My lips pursed together, trying to stop the flood, but it was no use.
I hated him.
And I loved him.
And tonight he was going to be sleeping with someone else, or maybe he had already last night or today, and I was an idiot. I was a fucking nonstop train wreck.