“Chloe—”
“Hand it over now.” Sean holds out a hand.
Zach pales, which means there is one. “Oh my God.”
“Swear to f**k, I never planned to use it. It was set to tape when we walked into the bedroom, but I forgot. I wasn’t thinking—”
A low-pitched moan sounds throughout the room, and I realize it’s coming from me. Zach, the man I love, betrayed me. On purpose. Knowing what I’d already been through.
“Chloe—” Zach reaches for me, but I dart back and out of his way.
“Hand it over,” Sean says. “I don’t give a shit if you have to give me the whole damned recorder, you hand it the f**k over now.” He vibrates with anger.
To my surprise, Zach turns and heads up the stairs.
Sean grasps my hand and pulls me against him, as if to protect me. But he can’t. It’s too late and nothing can. Pain and betrayal wrack my body. It starts in my heart and spreads outward in a never-ending spiral of agony.
“I have to get out of here.”
Sean hands me a set of keys. “Wait for me in the car.”
I grasp them like a lifeline. “I loved him,” I say to Sean.
“Dammit, Chloe, I—” Zach returned. He’s heard my admission.
“Get dressed and go.” Sean’s adamant. He doesn’t have to tell me again.
I take a quick run upstairs, dress and run out the front door.
Chapter Eight
The last few weeks of college crawl by. I hate being pathetic, and it’s not something I am willing to do, no matter how badly my heart is breaking. So I push myself through review sessions and finals. I keep up with work at The Tavern, and I continue to submit my resume and hope for a job interview. At this point, I’ll take anything that pays fairly decently and keeps me busy and unable to think.
Because when I think, I fall apart. It’s impossible to believe I fell for another man’s lies. I can’t fathom how I could have been so stupid. If I look back, this time the signs were there. Neon and flashing.
Zach showing up at the bar, watching me for weeks without making a move.
Zach just happens to show up when I’m attacked in the parking lot, playing savior, ingratiating himself into my life.
Zach being my bodyguard, my shadow.
Zach not making a move sexually until I make one first. That’s where I get hung up. Why? If he wanted to use me to get to Sean, why did he wait? Why did he let himself get close to me? Why not make a video that first time we slept together and be done with it? His actions with me are at odds with his plan to get revenge. He behaved like a man falling for me as hard as I fell for him.
I fell in love with you, Chloe.
He’d said so that last night. I shake my head hard. “Dumb, dumb, dumb.” Because he’d said other things too.
Get her out of here. Take her far away from me.
I shiver at the vivid memory, so strong I can practically hear his voice. I need to stop looking for the good and remember the reality. The video hard drive with us having sex that Sean took from the house and I watched him destroy. I didn’t watch this one, and Sean didn’t make me the way my parents had with the first one.
He merely pulled into a dark parking lot, walked out to the back of his car, and with a hammer he just happened to have, he smashed the recorder to bits. Nobody would be viewing naked pictures of me a second time.
I owe Sean for saving me from myself … even if I am having a hard time looking at him the same way. Another reason I have to keep busy or fall apart. If I think about what Sean did to Zach’s sister, how the poor woman is in a mental hospital because he— I shake my head to rid myself of the images that haunt me. I don’t want them in my brain. So I push them away. But then memories of Zach intrude.
I rub at my pounding temples. I have no time for this today. Today is graduation. I don’t know if my parents will show up or not, but I will be there. I plan to walk across that stage, get my diploma, and begin the next stage of my life.
Which includes living with Callie, who has been gracious enough to invite me to sleep on her sofa until I get my bearings. She lives close enough to The Tavern that I can walk at night, and in another step of independence, once I am out of the dorm later today, I’m handing my parents my car keys. Or mailing them home.
I’m on my own. And very much alone.
Being toward the end of the alphabet, I’m used to being called last for attendance and at big class gatherings. So I sit in the back rows of students. We are all dressed in black caps and gowns, the only contrasting color the occasional gold cord and sash to acknowledge graduating with honors. I’ve managed that despite everything, and I lift my chin up, reminding myself to be proud.
Finally the dean reading names reaches the Rs and my row. We stand and walk toward the stage single file.
I hear my name. “Chloe Reynolds.”
Reminding myself to shake with my right hand, accept the diploma with my left, I walk across the stage, handle the exchange, and smile.
A little while later, we turn our tassels. Toss our caps. And students search for their family and friends. Friends I do have, and I hug and kiss the few people who have been a part of my life these past four years. The ones who’ve been nice and stood by me. Ignore the ones who snickered and laughed behind my back. Sex-tape girl graduated just like the rest of them.
There’s no family to greet me or hand me flowers. No one to hug or congratulate me. I tell myself it’s fine. I didn’t expect my parents to come.
Liar. I’d hoped they’d show up and surprise me with a change of heart. Tell me they’re proud of what I’ve accomplished.
I shake my head and laugh. That’s about as likely to happen as I am to pick a guy I can trust.
“I’m glad to see you can still laugh.”
The familiar voice snakes through me, taking me off guard. I spin around in shock. “Zach?”
He walks toward me. He doesn’t look like the man I know. He’s wearing dress slacks and loafers. They’re Gucci and expensive. His pale blue button-down shirt gives him a more sophisticated air than I’m used to, but surprisingly, the look suits him. He carries a bouquet of roses in one hand.
“Congratulations, Princess.” He holds out the flowers.
I accept them with shaking hands. “Thank you.”
“I’m sure you have plans, but I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes?” He sounds uncertain.
I’m confused. I’m as drawn to him as ever. He’s handsome, sexy, the same man who protected me … yet he’s not. He’s a sophisticated stranger, and I realize there’s more about him I still don’t know.