Tayla sends me a screenshot of Farrah’s Instagram post. It’s nothing unlike what she would normally post. Wesley’s arm around her in the middle of the club with her ridiculous duck face.
The jerk can piss off with her duck face. I can’t sleep.
Why didn’t you come to London with the parentals?
She typed ridiculously quick.
Exams. A boy. London with the parentals would have been lame. Need I say more?
I smile, easily forgetting that she still had to answer to Mom and Dad. You would think they would loosen the strings with Tayla having already gone through the teenage phase with me and Ash, but if anything—they were stricter.
I’m guessing Gran’s with you? Slip some brandy in her night tea and you’re good to go for three hours till she wakes up to pee. I should get some sleep. Night sissy.
She follows by sending me some random GIF that makes me laugh quietly beneath the soft covers. I put my phone away and will myself to sleep when my mind begins to unwind and the exhaustion takes over.
The boys had left for training at the crack of dawn. I didn’t hear them leave; falling asleep and waking up to the smell of coffee filtering through the apartment.
Alessandra had a shift at the hospital then planned to catch the end of the game when she was done. She cooked me breakfast, gave me some clothes to wear, and suggested I stay in case the stalker was watching me. As much as I would have loved to stay, we had a schedule to adhere to so I called Cliff and explained what happened last night. He seemed genuinely concerned, organizing a car service and bodyguard to pick me up.
Back at the hotel, I quickly shower and change into something more relaxed. A pair of light blue boyfriend-cut jeans and a white t-shirt. I quickly place my sneakers on, ready to join the rest of the crew at Poppy’s’s parents’ house. With my purse in hand and a jacket in case the weather cooled down, I open my door to find Wes standing outside, blocking my way.
“Is it true?” His tone is sharp, almost demanding. There’s deep circles around his eyes and his clothes looked rumpled and worn.
“Wesley, the car is waiting downstairs. Can whatever this is wait?”
“No, it can’t wait, Emerson.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “What?”
“That a man was stalking you?”
I purse my lips, eyes wide nodding my head.
“And you slept at Logan’s?”
“Ash and Logan’s,” I correct him. “They live together. Ash took me home because I wasn’t safe alone.”
Wesley had no problem expressing his anger. His fist is resting against the door panel, curled into a ball with his knuckles white. “He could have taken you back here.”
“You were with Farrah,” I remind him. “Don’t pull that shit with me.”
He latches onto my arm with force. The pressure begins to hurt as I wriggle out of his grip refusing to let him intimidate me. “Are you sleeping with him?”
I begin to panic under his grip. Why on earth would he think that? Everything Logan and I had done
was in private—there was no way for Wes to find out. But the guilt and question accelerated the beating of my heart till I am certain it would explode at any moment.
“Who are you talking about?” I play dumb, keeping my gaze controlled.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Emerson! Logan Carrington. Are. You. Fucking him?!”
“You know what.” I keep my voice low, mindful that people in the rooms may hear us. “Leave him and my brother alone. As for you and me, we’re over, Wes. If I wanted to fuck someone, I believe I have the freedom to do so.”
He slams his fist on the wall, damaging a painting that falls onto the ground. Great. Now we look like ungrateful celebrities that go around damaging property.
“Don’t you fucking dare think for a second you have that freedom,” he threats, cornering me underneath his stance.
I had never seen Wesley react this way. Angry yes, but this was something else and it frightened me. He’d never been violent towards me and I’d always felt safe around him, but right now, I just wanted him away from me, terrified he would do more than threaten me with his words.