“I didn’t think the trailer trash was invited.” And… no such luck.
Freya smacks his shoulder. “Jake! Watch your mouth!”
"That's exactly what I'm doing here." He smiles like we're old friends, and from the outside, we probably look like buddies. It couldn't be further from the truth.
“I guess some things are unfixable, and asshole mode is your default.” I smile sweetly back, hoping he’ll get a yeast infection. “I hope they don’t reinstate you. You definitely don’t deserve to be a cop.”
“Scared to face me again on the streets of our fine city?” His smile causes me to enter a sugar coma.
“Scared to face me in court?” I show him all my teeth in a shark smile, and his drops a notch.
“Alright, break time.” Freya shakes her head, tugs on my arm, and throws at Jake, “Go get yourself a drink, Jake.” And then to me, “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I know what you were thinking because I was thinking the same thing: that Justin told him the truth. I guess he didn’t.” I shrug.
"I don't know why, though." She throws Jake a wondering look. "You'd think he'd crawl to you to ask for your forgiveness because his karma is so tainted. It's in desperate need of some purging. But no." Her shoulders slump. "Sorry."
“Don’t be.” Why didn’t Justin tell Jake?
I’m deep in thought when I feel a hot glare burning my skin. My eyes dart to Justin, and I find him watching me with a drink at his lips. He’s been watching me this whole evening. My every move, like a hawk preying on a little mouse on the ground before he strikes.
But Justin never does. Strikes, that’s it. He just watches, circling around but never coming close. I don’t precisely know what I’ve been expecting, but I leave the grand opening of a life-changing place for Little Hope feeling a little disappointed.
Archie left his car at the Dancing Pony, and because I picked him up on the way here, I feel I must drive him back. I could tell throughout the day that he had clouds hanging over his head, even with a smile plastered on his face. On the way back, I think about taking him somewhere to cheer him up.
ChapterTwenty-Three
JUSTIN
I always knew where she lived. Always. I found out the moment she moved her trailer here. When she asked me how I knew the other day—I completely froze. Yeah, how do you tell a woman that you followed her home when she was nineteen? Never mind that the real reason was that I needed to see where she lived so I could check on her. She was alone, and it didn’t sit well with my nature. I couldn’t say any of that, so I just ignored her question, hoping she would forget that she never got an answer.
And now, I'm sitting in my truck in front of her trailer, waiting for her to finally arrive home. Why is it taking so long? The drive from Dancing Pony to here is twenty minutes; she should be fuckin’ here by now unless they are doing some…extra activities.
At the thought of her in his hands, I squeeze the wheel so hard it lets out a squeaking sound, and I let go. Fuck, it's been forty minutes, and she's still not here. They're fucking for sure. I’m gonna break his fucking fingers for touching her. All evening he tortured me with those little touches. Every time he touched her, he watched my reaction and just chuckled. Oh, the fuckface knew what he was doing, alright, even if she was oblivious.
I start the engine and am about to drive to the bed and breakfast where the asshole is supposedly staying when the Jeep shows up, and I kill the lights on my truck.
I left her usual parking spot empty. She slows down when she sees me, I assume, and finally parks her car. When she gets out, I get out too and walk to her.
I don’t talk, I don’t say anything, I just stalk her like a predator. She looks a little dazed and a lot scared and moves backward. But I don’t care. Not anymore.
I grab her hand and lead her to the trailer. She doesn't resist as we reach the door, where she silently unlocks it, and we step inside. Once she closes the door, I lock it from the inside. I’m not ready for interruptions of any sort today. Not until I’m done.
She’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest in the middle of her kitchen. I lean on the door and wait, making her sweat while questioning what I’m going to do.
And I’m going to doeverything.
She’s carefully watching my face, looking for clues. But you won’t find any here, baby, no.
“Did you fuck him?” I growl finally.
“What?” Her eyes widen at my question.
I push away from the door and begin slowly moving toward her as she moves backward.
“Did. You. Fuck. Him.” I repeat, accentuating every word. My voice descends lower.
Once her ass hits the counter, she stops moving, and I step closer to her. My feet are touching hers.
