The sticky Georgia heat is practically making me melt as Duke and I climb into the SUV to head home after my calculus class on Wednesday around noon. I sling my bag to the floor and climb in. Duke gets in on the driver’s side, sets the AC and the music both to blast, then takes off out of the parking lot.
The guys have continued to insist that I be escorted to and from classes and campus. I don’t mind. Better safe than sorry, and if having one or more of them with me is a deterrent to whoever’s messing with me, then so be it.
There’s no denying it’s been an odd handful of days for us around here. I can’t go anywhere within Bainbridge Hall without being stared at or talked about behind my back. Then again, I suppose that’s what happens when you wake up naked in someone else’s bed with no memory of how it’d happened. I spoke to Warren about it on Monday when he finally resurfaced after having been with Maria trying to fix things. He didn’t have any more idea how it’d happened than I had, which all jibes with what the guys had said he’d told them that morning. We’re good. He’s not upset about it. I am, but that’s to be expected since I was the one under attack that night.
That whole mess with the auction and everything that followed is worrisome, frankly. The idea that what happened that night is all part of some grand plan sets me on edge. What did Derek mean about Elliot getting lucky? What did they supposedly find that took priority? Who took me? What the fuck is going on? It all makes my head spin.
As for Bear, we’re watching him carefully while he lays way low, attempting to detox, rest his shoulder, and soothe his wounded ego all at once. He’s taken the suggestion I’d given him to contact his coach to let him know he’s violently ill and will be back when he’s feeling better. Wouldn’t want to pass some heinous stomach bug around the entire team. Meanwhile, he’s been keeping up okay with his classwork, since all assignments are available online. In addition, Mason, Duke, and I have been giving him whatever support he needs, whether that’s an ear, a shoulder, or a bowl of shared ice cream.
My heart twinges as I think about how I’d told him I love him … and he hadn’t said it back. In fact, he kinda threw it in my face. The beating in my chest magnifies until I hear it in my ears. Fuck my life. Why did I do that? He hadn’t believed me at all. But the truth is, I meant what I said. I love Bear. I also love Mason and all of his flaws and damage, even though I haven’t specifically said the words to him … and well, I might be falling for Duke, too. It’s all muddled in my head, but there it is.
My eyes drift across the center console, taking in Duke’s profile when a sudden flash of him with Mason in the shower infuses my cheeks with heat. It’d been super hot, and I hadn’t realized until I saw them like that how deep their feelings run. Ever since finding out that they’re into each other, I’ve kinda gotten a kick out of watching them interact—clothes on and clothes off. That day Duke and I had to help Mason after his nightmare will live rent free in my head until the day I die. But it wasn’t until I witnessed them in what should have been a private moment that I truly understood it wasn’t just about sex with them. The vulnerability they’d shown each other made me weak in the knees. It’d been beautiful.
After seeing them like that, I’d been slightly concerned that they couldn’t have feelings for each other and for me, but I think that was the mean girl on my shoulder feeding me crap. Since that night—honestly, way before that—we’ve been functioning as a unit. It’s the four of us. Ride or die. What we have is unconventional, but it works for us, so I’m going to stop second-guessing myself. I’m theirs. And they’re mine.
Duke turns the music down a bit, his brow furrowing hard when he glances my way, almost as if he senses the chaotic thoughts zipping through my head. “Hey. You okay? How were classes?”
It feels funny to have been thinking such deep thoughts—especially when a lot of them were about him—only to have him yank me back to reality with small talk, even if the guy has proven he is concerned with my well-being.
“I’m good. Classes are fine. I’m starving.” That last bit just kinda slipped out. I shoot him an apologetic grin, my teeth clenched tight.
“Ah. That explains it. Can’t let Stella Bella get hangry. That’d be way worse than Stella Bella angry, and that’s fuckin’ scary enough.” He shoots me a wink. “We’ll pick up food on the way home.”
Fifteen minutes later, cheesesteaks and fries have been acquired, and we’re pulling up the driveway. At my suggestion, we picked up extra sandwiches in case anyone at the house wants lunch. I’ve noticed the last two days that around mealtimes, a lot of the guys have stuck their noses into the kitchen, then turned back around, shoulders slumping with disappointment. It hit me later that they are so used to Bear cooking meals for them, that his recent disappearing act has meant a whole lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches have been consumed. And while half of the brotherhood have been rotten assholes to me, in the end, I’m human and I have a heart … even if they don’t seem to. I set the bag on the counter, and Duke begins to fish out the containers of fries and wrapped sandwiches.
“I’m gonna hide two of those for Mase and Bear.” Duke shakes his head. “Otherwise these animals will scarf everything down.”
“Where’s Mason again?” I tilt my head to the side, watching as he tucks two of the sandwiches behind some other takeout containers, then sets the rest in front.
“He was going to stay and get some work done because he has a meeting with his advisor late this afternoon.” He gestures toward the patio. “You wanna eat outside?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Duke jerks his head toward the patio, as he gathers our meal in his hands. “I’ll take the food out. Can you grab us bottles of water and some ketchup?”
“Yep. I’ll be right behind you.” I spin on my heel and pull open the fridge, snagging a pair of water bottles, which I set on the counter before rummaging in the door for ketchup. Locating the bottle, I pull it out with a groan. One of these yahoos put it back empty. With a semi-annoyed sigh, I chuck it in the trash, then wander over to the pantry to get a fresh bottle.
I pull the door open, and the fact that the pantry is dark and unnerving sets off warning bells in my head. My breath catches as my vision goes hazy, and I work hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. I stare into the tiny room while I chew on my lip and contemplate whether we really need ketchup with our fries, anyway. Maybe a different dipping sauce would work instead. My eyes crash shut. Fuck. I’m being a big baby about this. Here I am, having a perfectly nice day and whammo. I exhale hard, clenching my fists. I hate how easily my past can trigger me—and at the most inopportune of moments. My stomach takes this opportunity to rumble, reminding me that Duke is waiting on me outside. Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly, and take a step into the pantry, my fingers reaching for the light switch.
Before I can flip it, my breath whooshes from me as I’m knocked from behind. I land on my hands and knees with a shriek, my heart going from zero to sixty in no time flat. The door slams behind me, leaving me in pitch-black darkness. I let out a horrible, raw cry, nervously pushing to my feet and jerking around unsteadily. Another scream rips from my throat as my heart rate soars and sweat-inducing panic begins to set in. My mind flips and turns in on itself. Waking in the dark. The closet door wedged shut. Banging my fists on it. Touching the front of my neck and unable to understand why it hurts. Don’t leave me in here. Mama! Help! Let me out!
A rough sob gets caught in my throat, but then I force myself to pause and breathe. You’re okay. I feel along the wall and flip on the light, determined not to turn this into something it’s not. To not allow whoever keeps trying to shove my past down my throat to win. There’s no lock on the pantry door, so it should open. I grab the handle and push on the door with my palm flat against it, but it’s clear there’s something blocking the way. What the fuck? Who the fuck? My internal terror gives way to something else—a full steam of mad builds inside me until I back up and ram my shoulder full-force into the door. It inches open, but only a fraction. My brows pinch together. I step close to peek through the small gap between the door and the frame.
I let out an unbidden scream that echoes off the walls of the food-lined pantry.
On the other side, Tucker’s beady eye stares at me through the crack. Mother. Fucker. “What the hell are you doing in the pantry, sexy?” He shakes his head and gives me a confused look like I’m the crazy one. A moment later, he removes whatever is being used to keep the door closed, and I burst free of my temporary prison.
I’m immediately on him, slapping at any part of his body I can reach and clawing like a wild animal. “Why the fuck did you shut me in there?” I heave out, glaring at him.
His head rears back and his thin lip curls. “I didn’t fucking do anything except let you out.”
My gaze narrows on him. “Like I believe you, asshole.” I spin away from him and run directly into Duke’s solid chest.
His arms wrap around me, holding me close. “The fuck’s going on, Tucker? I heard her screams from outside.” Tucker may not realize it, yet, but the low, controlled tone of Duke’s voice is concealing a good amount of fury, I can practically feel it in the tension radiating from him. Tucker is woefully unaware of the anger simmering just below the surface of Duke’s words.
“What the fuck ever. Our crazy houseguest shut herself in the damn pantry this time. I heard her shriek and ran in here to see the chair jammed under the doorknob.”
Before Duke can say anything to defend me, I see red and jerk in his arms, pushing away from him to face Tucker. “I absolutely did not. Someone shoved me. I fell and whoever it was slammed the door shut and put the chair in front of it. If it wasn’t you, it was someone else because how the fuck would I have put the chair where it was if I was inside the pantry, you absolute fucking moron?”
“She has a point, Tuck.” Duke blows out a hard breath behind me, keeping steady hands on my arms. I don’t know whether he’s trying to keep his cool by assuring himself that I’m okay or if he’s afraid I’m going to scratch the douchebag’s eyes out.
At this point, half the brotherhood has shown up, curiosity spilling over their features.
“Whatever,” he spits. “Think what you want. I’m telling you I didn’t do it. If it’d been me, I’d have shut myself in there with her and she’d have been deep-throating my cock, completely incapable of calling for help.” He’s panting like he’s run a race as he searches the room, wild-eyed, as if he’s looking for backup among the brotherhood. He finds none.
Disgust fills me. Before I can open my mouth to let Tucker have it, the rage spilling from Duke fills the room. It’s potent. Thick in the air. And it distracts me from all the thoughts flying through my head. There’s a shuffle of feet as most of the brothers fall back. Duke steps into Tucker’s personal space and backs him up to the kitchen counter. I’ve never seen Duke like this before. “What the fuck did you just say about her?” His voice is low and lethal, leaving no room for Tucker to do anything but give the right answer.
“Nothing. Nothing, man.” And that wasn’t it.
Duke narrows his eyes. “You sure that’s your answer?”
Jaw clenched tightly, Tucker spits, “I said if it were me, I’d have put her on her pretty little knees and made her suck my dick. Happy?” He looks past Duke, training his eyes on me and sneering. “She probably gives great head, considering all the practice she’s had.”
Faster than I’ve ever seen someone move, Duke has Tucker by the neck. He’s so startled, he stumbles, allowing Duke to shove him directly into the pantry. My throat goes dry. I can’t see what’s happening. I’m not so sure I want to. But we can hear every word. Me, Warren, Arik, Brendan, and Quincy. We exchange nervous looks.
“How’s it feel to be forced to your knees, Tuck? You like it?” Duke’s growl is animalistic. “Do it.”
My teeth bite down hard on my lip. The distinctive sound of a belt unbuckling has me blinking hard, then a zipper slides down.
“Come on, man.” Tucker has gone from defiance to uncertain whimpering in no time flat.
“What? You don’t like the suggestion that you kneel? You don’t want an unwelcome cock shoved in your mouth?” There’s a thud, then a huge crash. In my head, I imagine the items on the shelves have been swept off and are likely all over the floor. “Leave her the fuck alone. And pick up this goddamn mess.”
Duke storms out, zipping up and buckling his belt as he goes. He catches my eye and jerks his head, like I should follow him. But I can’t resist taking a look inside the pantry before I do. Edging over to the open doorway, I peek at the disaster. Holy. Fuck. Tucker is sprawled on the floor. He’s covered in flour, sugar, and who knows what else. My eyes shift to the bare shelf. Duke must have scooped all the baking canisters off in one fell swoop and let them fly right at Tucker’s head.
Why would I not assume it was him? From the beginning, he’s joked about putting me in the pantry to show him how good I was on my knees. He’s the one who said he wanted to win me at auction. It’s almost always been him with the fucking asshole antics here at the house. Maybe we were too goddamn blind to see that it’s been him all along. Everything. The bathroom on campus, the locker … fuck, maybe he’s even who had me after the auction. I shudder. He and Warren aren’t friends. It kinda makes sense he’d dump me in Warren’s bed. Sort of. I frown, my forehead pinching hard because there’s something else ticking along the edges of my subconscious … something that tells me it’s not Tucker. It doesn’t feel right. But he’s still a fucking asshole for everything he just said.
Warren gives me a firm nod of approval when I meet his concerned gaze. Cringing, I glance at the rest of the guys. “I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to attack me in broad daylight in the middle of the damn kitchen. But how’d that work out for you? Was the desired outcome achieved?”
“You fuckin’ tell ’em, Lennon.” Warren is the only one who will look me in the eye, but I didn’t expect anything from the rest of them.
Arik’s lips quirk. “If I figure out who did it, can I have the code to the alarm system?”
Leave it to Arik to make light of the whole damn situation. I sigh, rolling my eyes as I open the refrigerator and pull out the ranch dressing to take with me, then grab the bottles of water from the counter. “I almost don’t want to tell you this, but there are sandwiches in the fridge. One for each of you. Don’t be pigs.” With that, I whirl around and head out to the patio.
Outside, Duke is rather angrily chewing a bite of his sandwich when I join him. He glances up, and I gesture to the bottle of ranch as I set it on the table. “Sorry. The empty ketchup in the fridge is what started everything. I was about to get a fresh bottle from the pantry, and well … you heard the rest.” I huff out a weak, troubled laugh. “Hope you’re okay with ranch with your fries because no way in hell was I going back into the pantry after all that.”
He picks up the bottle and squirts the dressing into the lid of the container. Dipping a fry into it, he shakes his head, exasperated. “It’s fine. And you shouldn’t have to explain yourself. I’m fuckin’ sorry that happened. Even more sorry I lost it like that. I—” His jaw works to the side, and he lets out a heavy exhale.
Watching how his reaction plays out, I find myself chewing on my lip again and will myself to stop. I study the way his jaw twitches. He’s being really hard on himself. I sit down and try to concentrate on unwrapping my sandwich, giving him a breather. He’ll talk when he’s ready.
It’s a full five minutes later when he finally sets down his sandwich roll and grits out, “I wasn’t going to make him blow me. Just for the record.” He takes another fry from the container and chomps angrily on it.
“Is that what you’re worried about? That it made you look gay?”
He clears his throat, his gaze landing on me for a moment before it skips away again. “You should have seen the look on his face when I made him undo my pants. I thought he was going to shit himself. Fucking idiot.”
I stifle a laugh because I can see he’s truly upset, even if he’s trying to cover it up. “I took it to be a threat, nothing more. And I’m sure to every other person with half a brain in their head, it sounded like you were fucking with him. Kinda like when you threatened to make Arik and Quincy clean your toilets with their toothbrushes. It was just scary enough of a threat that Tucker would watch his fucking step.”
“I couldn’t help myself. No one should treat a woman the way he treats you and get away with it.” He hesitates, locking eyes with me. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I do realize how that sounds coming from me because of some of the shit I’ve said to you the last few weeks.” He wipes his hands on a napkin, then wads it up and chucks it toward the bag.
I wet my lips, then put my hand over his, hoping it’ll calm him because the vein running down the middle of his forehead is protruding intensely. “Let’s not muddy the waters. We aren’t the same people to each other as when I first showed up on your doorstep. The things you said to me before we knew each other well enough—don’t worry about that. As for Tucker, I don’t disagree with you. But—” The thing that was bothering me clicks into place, and I’m suddenly … scared. Sweat forms on my back and begins to trickle all the way down to the waistband of my jean shorts.
“What are you thinking about, Stella?” Duke’s voice is low but demanding. He can tell something is wrong.
I try to swallow, but my throat is dry as the desert. “What Tucker said is bothering me.”
Duke gives me an odd look. “I just told you he was being a prick.”
“No. That’s not what I’m referring to. What he said was gross, but”—I finally manage to swallow—“he wasn’t lying. If it had been him who shut me in that pantry, he for sure would have been in there with me. He’s guilty of being a foul-mouthed dickface, but I believe him when he says he didn’t shove me in there.” I draw in a ragged breath, studying the myriad of emotions flicking over Duke’s face. Concern. Confusion. And yep, still holding onto that pissed-off moodiness from how he dealt with Tucker.
Duke frowns for a full three seconds before understanding dawns on him. “Which means it was someone else.”
“Yes.” My heart is thudding so hard in my chest. I shove my food away, mostly untouched. “It’s the middle of the day. No one is fucking sneaking into the house, pushing me into the pantry, then disappearing without someone seeing an outsider. So if that’s the case, we’re saying that someone else in the house did that to me. Right?” I wait a beat, lowering my voice. “Duke, it’s someone who knows about my past. That’s disturbing because hardly anyone knows about the incident that occurred when I was a child. The thing with my closet and the dress—I had assumed someone snuck in and did that. But how would someone in the house know what effect this would have on me?”
He runs a hand down his face, eyeing me. “I see what you’re getting at.”
My palms are sweating badly, and I take a second to wipe them on my thighs as I search Duke’s blue eyes for answers. And then it hits me. I know how this has happened. The reality of the situation makes my stomach pitch and churn. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but now that my mind is clearing from the pantry incident, my thoughts race and race, tripping and stumbling as I consider all the angles. I’m scared to open my mouth and let the upsetting truth spill out.
Finally, Duke drags in a breath, rubbing a hand over his scalp, ruffling the hair on top of his head. “I know this is probably the last thing you want to do right now … and I don’t want to pry into shit you aren’t ready or even willing to share. But I—” He stops, his jaw working back and forth. “I need you to trust me, Lennon. And maybe I haven’t earned it yet. But I can’t help you the way I want to—can’t fully understand what we’re dealing with—unless you do.” He looks down at his hands before he peers at me. “Can you trust me enough to tell me what happened when you were a little girl?”
My anxiety mounts, knowledge rattling my insides. “It’s hard for me.” I suck in a breath, putting my hand on his on top of the table. “Not the trusting you part. But talking about why I have the panic attacks. And I know you’ve seen me lose it firsthand, and I’ve never explained why. I’m sor—” My throat closes up. I feel sick and nervous and scared. Opening up is never easy for me, but when I look into Duke’s eyes, all I see is kindness and caring and concern.
It sends me right over the edge. My face crumples, and I cover it with shaking hands. I don’t see him move, but Duke has me out of my seat and lifts me into his arms moments later. As I wrap my body around his, arms around his neck and legs around his waist, he walks us back to the house and heads directly toward the stairs. My body trembles and quakes against his. Voices from the direction of the kitchen have me hiding my face in his neck. I don’t want anyone to witness this breakdown because it makes me feel weak. And even worse, I’m terrified that Duke will have to explain away our closeness to anyone who sees him holding me like this. I don’t want this to be something that makes him step back from me again. I hate to think I’m putting him in this position in front of the brotherhood, but I can’t let go, no matter how I tell my limbs to loosen their hold.
Duke lets us into his room, then kicks the door shut, carrying me to his bed. He doesn’t hesitate, climbing into it with me in his arms, then lowers us to the mattress. I allow my legs to unlock, but I don’t release my hold on him. Facing each other, we lie there for several minutes while he watches me do nothing more than breathe.
Duke eases back, slowly brushing hair out of my face and wiping away my tears. “The last thing I want is to upset you.” His voice is rough, the words whispered against my temple as I cling to him. “Will you tell me about it, baby? I want to know how to help you.”
I wish I could. Everything I want and need to say is jammed up in my throat.
Duke cups my cheek, peppering my face with soft kisses. “It makes me ache that you’ve gone through something terrible that has had such a profound effect on you.” The careful way he’s handling me says so damn much about him and how far we’ve come. He’s really proven himself. He’s been there for me.
I trust Duke. I need him. I just hope he can handle this. There’s so much to say. And suddenly, I can’t hold it in another second. I draw in a breath and close my eyes, whispering, “I was only five.” My heart pounds loudly in my ears, and I clutch Duke’s shoulders, squeezing my eyes tighter. “I-I’m just going to get it out.”
“Whatever you need to do, Stella. Take your time or blurt it out. Whichever works for you.”
I force myself to look at Duke and end up staring at his chin. The steady rise and fall of his chest calms me like nothing else. “My mother asked her boyfriend to watch me. She was going out for the night with friends. He— I remember him being a real jerk. But the details of why I thought that are foggy. Anyway, he didn’t want to deal with a little girl, so he tried to shut me in a closet. He said we were playing hide-and-seek, and I should stay there. But I understood what he was doing, and I cried.”
Duke’s hand moves up and down my back in a comforting gesture. “Sounds like a dick,” he murmurs.
I exhale raggedly, my fingers digging into Duke’s shoulders. “I guess he got frustrated. Ended up choking me. From the memories I’ve pieced together, I passed out. I must have been in there for a long time because I was out and then awake and screaming to be let out of the closet. My throat was raw on the inside from screaming, bruised on the outside from his hands.” Duke’s so very obviously upset and on edge from the things I’ve revealed to him, but he’s holding all that in. For me. Because he recognizes that I need him to. I wet my lips. “I told Mason a little bit of this because of the choking thing.”
Duke’s brows go up. “He mentioned that you’d confided in him, but he didn’t tell me much more than that. Just so you know.”
I nod. “That morning when he lost it, and you had to pry him off me? I acted like him choking me was no big deal because he wasn’t the first. He wanted to know what I meant. It was later that day when I told him.”
Duke’s focus on me is intense, but he hasn’t flinched. “It tracks that Mason wouldn’t deal well with that.”
“Nope.” I let out a sigh as I come back to the concern that has been bothering me since the moment it struck me. I don’t want to believe it to be true, but there are only so many people who know enough about me to hurt me in this way. “M-my mother. She’s the only other one who is aware of any of it. Doesn’t even know exactly what happened to me because I wouldn’t ever tell her. But she saw firsthand the aftermath of what I went through, both the immediate physical effects of it as well as the trigger of the panic attacks that have plagued me all my life.” Exhaling hard, I whisper, “Duke, I’ve told no one else. My mother, Mase, and now you.”
Duke pauses, and I get the idea he’s letting what I’ve said sink in. His body goes rigid a moment later. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. She must have told my father.”
