Yeah, that’s true. I couldn’t bear to look at Greyson at the bar. He completely ignored me after accosting me in the bathroom. Instead, he flirted with Paris and one of her friends. And meanwhile, I kept freaking out.
Why the hell is hehere? Did he know I went here? Crown Point University is so far removed from our hometown, Rose Hill. Different state. Hours away. This small town wasmyreprieve, and now it’s becoming my nightmare.
He’s the hotshot no one can shut up about.
My friends are obsessed with hockey.
And, admittedly, I’m friendly with them, too. The team. At least, I was. I now have the urge to avoid all of them.
Am I going to run into him on campus on Monday? Am I going to have to avoid him like the plague?
If only I could justleave. Go back to Rose Hill, climb into the narrow daybed my mom shoved into the corner of her living room while I recovered, and hide under the covers. But with dance gone, and the money for college slowly dwindling, I don’t think I have much of a choice but to persevere.
“What happened with Jack?” Willow asks.
I grunt. “He’s a sloppy kisser when he’s drunk.”
Another mistake. Willow refused to let him back into our apartment, even though he pleaded. Which is probably a good thing. No doubt he would’ve climaxed in less than ten minutes—or taken an hour. No in between. Meanwhile, I would’ve been left to live with the ache between my legs or take care of myself.
It’s his toxic trait. Leaving me hanging when he’s blasted.
“What do you want to do today?” She picks up my hand and threads our fingers together. “I’m thinking a movie. A matinee? Then we can just relax.”
“Sure.” Really, anything dark sounds good. The light is still burning into my eyes, and I roll onto my side to face Willow. “Has Greyson been big on campus the whole time I’ve been gone?”
She narrows her eyes. “I thought I saw something on your face when Steele introduced you two. What happened?”
“Um…” I swallow. A lump forms in my throat. If I tell Willow, she’ll go protective mama bear on my ass. Or worse. Potentially way worse. I’ve just got to blurt it out. So I do, in a rush. The words mash together on their way past my lips. “He’s the one who hit me.”
She pauses a beat. Then, “Bullshit.”
I wince.
She stares at me and rises on her elbow. “Violet Marie Reece, you’ve got to be KIDDING me right now. He hit you? He’s the one who did…” She waves vaguely at my leg.
“Greyson Devereux.” I exhale sharply. “I can’t make this shit up, Willow. The asshole hit me with his car. But—” I reach out and grab her hand. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“Why not?”
Because I signed a nondisclosure agreement. It was part of the reason why I dropped the charges. My mom didn’t want to let go. She wanted to wring out every last penny from the Devereuxes. Wanted them to cover the medical expenses, wanted Greyson to serve jail time.
Of course, he was out in less than four hours. Too much time elapsed between the cops interviewing me at the hospital, before I was rushed into surgery, and them arriving at Greyson’s house. They told my mom that they couldn’t administer a breathalyzer test, even though I swore he was drunk. He got away with it.
As the story goes, his dad made some phone calls and nudged the police chief to drop the charges. Greyson walked—quickly and quietly. I don’t know if they even took his fingerprints.
But there was still a civil suit to deal with. Mom threatened it. Loudly. Greyson’s father came and appealed to my mom’s sensible nature. He pointed at me and asked her if she was willing to drag me through a trial.
I would be questioned.
Why I was out.
What I was doing.
What made me pull into the street then.
Did I check both ways?
Did I try to avoid the car?