But what proof do I have? None. The lipstick thing probably isn’t solid evidence because lots of people wear scented lipstick. Even if I stole a tube and got it taken to the lab to be analyzed, what would that prove? Nothing. Plus, Morgan and Katrina are the only ones who know that I hooked up with Santa over break, so they’re the only ones who would even feel justified in calling me a slut. To the rest of the world, I come off as shy, and even nerdy. Slut definitely isn’t the first adjective that pops into mind when you see me.
But still, my suspicions are just a feeling, and I have nothing solid to go on. Even if I made accusations, it would just be my word against theirs, and that’s nothing. As a result, Morgan and Katrina will probably pretend surprise, and evade any consequences.
Hot tears rush down my cheeks as I stand there shaking, terrified and anguished at once. What do I do? How do I deal with this? I sink to my knees, reaching for my phone.
7
BRODY
Cleo has hardly said two words to me ever since I showed up three hours ago. She called me crying and sobbing, and I could barely understand what she was saying at first.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” I rumbled over the phone. “Start over, and tell me again.”
By the time the story was done, I already had my keys in hand and was flying out the door. Now, I’m helping Cleo move out of her room because obviously, she can’t stay in this shithole. Fortunately, the housing office had an opening in a nearby dorm, and as a result, we’re hauling her stuff there.
Yet, I feel terrible for the sweet girl. She’s obviously extremely distressed by the way she constantly fumbles with the endless boxes and suitcases. Not only that, but Cleo keeps looking behind her shoulder every few minutes, as if someone will pop up behind her for a terrible surprise.
The whole thing makes me insanely angry. After all, my ex-stepdaughter is a wonderful woman, both inside and out. The pretty brunette is smart, funny, kind-hearted, and she wouldn’t hurt a fly, so I don’t understand how anyone could dislike her at all, let alone dislike her enough to pull something of this magnitude.
Those fucking bullies. They’re just a bunch of mean girls who have nothing better to do with their time than get their jollies off by humiliating others. What were their names again? Fuck it. I don’t even care.
But still, my heart hurts seeing my sweet girl suffer. A silent tear skims down Cleo’s cheek when she thinks I don’t see, and my heart breaks all over again.
“It’s going to be fine, sweetheart,” I growl, trying to cheer her up. My arms are full at the moment, but otherwise, I’d envelop the curvy girl in a big bear hug.
She nods, the tear dripping off her chin.
“I know,” she says in a defeated voice.
My jaw clenches because this woman means the world to me, and those fuckwads out there have hurt her! I’m going to fucking wring their necks, and then kick their asses to the moon. Goddamn bitches.
Finally, we’re done moving. The final box is a small one and Cleo carries it in, heaving it onto the floor before closing and locking the door behind her. The pretty brunette stands there for a few moments, looking around blankly at the spartan dorm room. It’s okay I guess. Standard fare with an extra-long twin, a desk, a dresser, and not much else, save for the boxes on the floor.
“Cleo,” I rumble, my eyes serious. “How are you feeling, honey?”
The young woman looks at me, shrugging weakly, her lips trembling. “I’m not doing well,” she admits quietly. I quickly take a seat on the dorm bed and hold my arms open to her. She comes rushing over, and I pull her into my embrace, caressing those soft curves as she sits on my lap and buries her face in my neck.
“Sweetheart, I know this sucks, but this too shall pass. It’s no consolation at the moment, but trust me on it, okay?”
She sniffles a little, hot tears coating my neck.
“It just feels awful,” Cleo says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”
I shake my head grimly.
“I don’t know why, but we won’t let them get away with it.”
Cleo takes a deep shuddering breath, and nods, her face still buried against my neck.
“But how? I mean, I know it has to be Katrina and Morgan because it can’t be anyone else. I must have accidentally left my room door unlocked when I took off, and then those two must have gone in and trashed my stuff. But of course, they’re pretending that this is a total shock to them too. Katrina even offered to help me pack for this move.”
“Fuck that,” I growl.
Cleo nods miserably.
“Yeah. I don’t know what to do now, or even if there’s something wecando. I mean, the housing office has been responsive, but they also want me to report the incident to the campus police. I don’t know. Should I?”
I frown and pull back to look into her beautiful, tear-stained face.