Gemma
Ignoring Odis and Denver’s knocking, I curl up in a tight ball in the center of my bed and tuck the cover over my head. Everything is soaking wet, and I don’t care. I hope the sheets are ruined. I hope they have to throw out these stupidly soft sheets.
Tears roll down the side of my face. Sadness overcomes me as I try to forget today ever happened. I want to be back in Florida where people actually like me, where I don’t have to worry about getting drenched in Kool-Aid or getting thrown into a pool.
Anger surges back to the surface when I hear the lock click. Fuck, I forgot Denver has a key. The door opens, but I don’t move. I simply tighten the grip on the cover.
I hear the door close again. Someone is moving around in the room, and then I feel the bed dip. First on one side, then the other.
“Hey.” Denver’s voice is low and calming. I almost answer him but press my lips into a tight line instead. I feel his hand on my back. His touch is warm even through the blanket, and for a moment, I concentrate on that alone.
“You’re shaking, and your bed is wet,” Denver says. “Let’s get you dry and warm.”
I didn’t even realize I was shaking until he mentioned it. I want to protest, but I am freezing cold. It’s hot outside, but the air conditioning is blasting inside, and the aftershock from almost drowning doesn’t help. So when he reaches under the covers to undo the string of my bikini top, I let him.
Odis moves on the other side of me, and a moment later, I feel his hands slip under the covers. He feels for my bikini bottoms, and when he finds them, he starts to pull them down my legs.
When I’m naked under the blanket, Odis slides his arms underneath my body and picks me off the bed.
“Take her to my room,” Denver orders, and Odis starts to move. I keep my eyes closed, letting them take care of me. I know I shouldn’t trust them, but somehow, I feel like I can, at least in this moment.
Odis lays me down on a soft mattress, and someone starts to pull the blanket off my body. My eyes fly open, and I’m about to yell at him, but Denver is already hovering above me with a new blanket. While Odis pulls the wet one away, Denver covers me with a dry one.
I stare at him in disbelief as he tucks me into his bed—literally tucks me in until I’m tightly wrapped up like a cocoon.
* * *
I didn’t meanto fall asleep. I really didn’t. But I was so comfortable and felt, well, secure, thanks to the way Denver tucked me in.
The light outside is dimmer now, telling me some time has passed. It’s probably mid-afternoon, if not later. At least I’m alone. I don’t think I could’ve handled it if either of them had stuck around, or God forbid, gotten into bed with me.
There’s even a fresh T-shirt and shorts laid out on Denver’s desk chair, waiting for me. For an inconsiderate bastard, he does think of everything when he feels like it.
I wish I could get a read on either of them. How can they be such complete dickheads one minute, then treat me like I’m some precious thing the next—Tucking me in, making sure I’m not shivering in a wet bathing suit, changing out my blanket for a dry one? What kind of mind game are they trying to play?
I have way too much on my mind to devote an ounce of effort to working out the puzzle that is the Montgomery brothers. All I know is, I can’t stay here. Not just in Denver’s room but in this house. Not when I can never tell what they’re going to do next. Not when they’re friends with all the people who made my life a living hell and seem intent on continuing the torture now.
No way is Chelsey going to stop screwing with me now that I embarrassed her in front of her ex, not to mention some of the hottest and most popular guys in school. That’s how she’ll see it, too. I just know it is. I’ll be the bad guy, and she’ll be the victim, and this will be more reason than ever to make me wish I’d never been born.
I’m not a kid anymore. I’m in control of my life, and I decide where I want to be. It’ll mean missing the wedding, but so be it. Frankly, I could stand to miss the event of the year since it’ll mean being linked to Denver and Odis for the rest of my life—or until they get divorced. Though considering the way Mom and Richard look at each other, I don’t know if that’ll happen.
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I’m getting out of here while I still can. I’m going back to Florida, where I can forget about all of this and be my own person again. Tiptoeing down the hall, I keep an ear out for any noise downstairs. I don’t hear Mom or Richard, so I guess they’re still out. Small miracles.
My bags are in my closet, and I pull them out and drag them to the bed before opening them. This will be easier if I can do it fast. No, I don’t want to hurt my mother, but I have to think about myself, my safety, hell, my sanity. I’ll talk it all out with her on the phone while I’m on my way south. She’ll understand when I lay everything out bare. I know she will.
Though I would sooner swallow glass than tell her anything about the weird sexual thing going on between her daughter and soon-to-be stepsons, I don’t want to kill her or anything. I don’t want to acknowledge it, either. When I think about it, I’m more convinced than ever that this is the right thing to do. The only thing.
I load up one bag with socks, underwear, shoes, and toiletries before starting in on the rest of my clothes. I pick up my phone to check the weather and see if any storms heading up the coast, just in case, while going back to the closet for everything hanging in there.
I notice I have a new email. I open it without thinking but don’t actually take a look at it until I’ve dropped an armload of dresses and shirts on the bed.
It’s from the bursar’s office at school.
And it’s enough to make my legs go out from under me. I plop down on the floor, staring at the message. I must’ve read it wrong. No way is this happening.
We’re sorry to inform you that due to an unfortunate round of cutbacks, we are forced to withdraw your scholarship.
No. No fucking way. But the thing is, the words don’t change no matter how many times I read them or how much I want them to. I don’t have a scholarship anymore.