Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series) (29 page)

BOOK: Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series)
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My brow wrinkles from what I don’t hear behind the door. I turn my head and press my ear to the wood to make sure. The shower runs steadily, telling me that she didn’t get in it.

“Denver?”

“Yeah?”

Yep, she’s right behind the door.

“You’re not in the shower.”

“No.” Hitch. “I’m not.”

“Coming in. You decent?”

Hesitation. “I guess.”

Another brow wrinkle. I crack the door and peer through it, starting at her feet just to be safe. My eyes wander up to see she’s completely dressed and staring at the water falling from the showerhead.

“Do you still want to wash up?”

Her honey-colored eyes that are still tinged with sadness slide from the shower to me. “Yes.”

“Why aren’t you getting in?”

Her face falls, and she looks down at her hands. I’m at a complete loss with how to handle this Denver. “I … I—”

“I can’t take this indecisive shit anymore, Denver.” I hear the mean tone in my voice, but I’ve got to get her out of my apartment. I can’t be around her much longer. I know my bad attitude will spur her into action. “Do you need my help undressing?”

“No,” she barks. Her head flying back up. Mission accomplished. I see a little spunk behind the sadness. I can’t help but grin. There she is. Even if it’s just a bit.

“All right then.” I nod. “Get your butt undressed, and get cleaned up. Want some clean clothes?”

“Yes, please.”

I shut the door on her niceties, which are beyond confusing, to go in search of something for her to wear.

When she emerges from the bathroom, dressed in my sweat pants and too large t-shirt, I leave my position of leaning against the wall with my cell phone in hand and start toward her. She cowers a little bit, and in that moment, I know something awful has happened. This is bigger than hurt feelings.

“I sent a text to Pete so he could tell Maggie you’re here with me, and I’d bring you to your dorm in a bit.” She just nods.

I need her to talk to me. I know that now. Figure out what I can do to help her and whether or not I need to kick someone’s ass. First things first, though. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“Some water would be good.”

Since I need answers and don’t want Pete interrupting us, I guide her to my room and tell her to wait there for me. When I come back with some ice water and Motrin, she doesn’t even notice me until I’m standing directly in front of her. She takes the medicine without even asking what it is and swallows it with her water. She reminds me of a machine that’s forgotten its programming. Going through the motions with prompting, but still not quite right. When she finishes gulping down most of her water, she just holds the glass at an odd angle in front of her like she doesn’t know what step comes next.

I take the glass from her and set it on the nightstand, pulling up my desk chair in front of her in the process. I swallow hard. Other than our sometimes flirting and usual bickering, I don’t know her all that well. Then I wonder if anyone really knows Denver. Does she even know herself for that matter?

Rubbing dampened palms over my thighs, like I’m getting ready to ride the beast, I brace them sideways on my knees and lean into her space a little. She’s been busy staring a hole in my wall. “Denver?” I say softly. Only her eyes move to find mine. “I need you to tell me what happened tonight.”

She shakes her head at me. “Nothing I didn’t deserve. I’ll be OK, Ransom. I just need—”

“Another minute?” I finish for her.

She exhales shakily, and the cinnamon smell of my toothpaste engulfs me. “I guess. I don’t know.” She finds her palms interesting in that moment. I glance down and take them in. They’re small but steady and strong. “I don’t know how to recover from this betrayal.”

“Betrayal? Who betrayed you? What happened?”

She traces a pattern on her hand before sighing. “It’s not important. I’ll get over it. It just … hurts.”

Surely it couldn’t be as bad as all that. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you’re thinking. Maybe you got your wires crossed. A misunderstanding?”

Nodding, she looks back up at me. “Yeah, that’s it. A misunderstanding.”

She’s too quick to agree with me. I frown at her. “Bullshit.”

“Yep, that
was
bullshit.” And I earn myself a tiny grin.

I narrow my eyes. “You just don’t want to talk about it. And would say anything to get me to drop it, right?” I joke.

Another tiny grin. Why did that make me feel like I hung the damn moon? I somehow refrain from grinning with pride and continue, “I guess I really only need to know one thing. Did anyone hurt you … physically?”

She maintains eye contact, her eyes hardening before she mumbles, “No.” She doesn’t like look she’s lying, so I just nod and relax. I didn’t realize how tense I was, waiting for her answer. I was ready to kick some necessary ass on her word. I may not like her very much, but I wouldn’t let that pass. “But I did,” she confesses and flips her hand over, showing me her swollen knuckles. “You’d be proud. I threw the punch from my core.”

“You hit someone?” I marvel, as I run my thumb over her hand.

She shrugs. “Yep. Deserved it. And it wasn’t my first time to throw a punch at a face.”

“We’ll get you some ice, and then I guess I can bring you to your dorm.” Her semi-relaxed state morphs right before my eyes. Her eyes shift from mine. She takes a deep breath and folds in on herself a little. That scares her for whatever reason. I can’t imagine why. It’s just a bunch of girls. Then it hits me. It’s the girls who’ve hurt her. Not a guy. They must have upped their game. I guess a person could really only take so much. “Unless you want to stay here,” I hear myself utter. Her eyes dart back up.
Shit
. Really? What the hell’s wrong with me?

Her relief is even more visible than her tensing a second ago. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll sleep on the couch. You can sleep in here.” Her eyes tighten, but she nods her head.

“Thank you, Ransom. For everything. I know you … don’t like me much.”

My hand finds her knee and gives it a quick squeeze, but not quick enough. It registers immediately that I like how soft she is. “Hey, don’t worry about any of that. Water under the bridge.”

“Really, Ransom?” she says with hope this time.

“Really. Let’s call a truce, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nods her head somewhat enthusiastically. “I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

“I’m sorry for being an ass. Or … what was it?” I tap my chin thoughtfully while a little blush steal over her cheeks.
Holy shit!
A blushing Denver? That has to be a first. And that does more for me than the bikini-clad Denver or even the badass, barrel racer Denver. “A jerk of a thousand shades.” I laugh, remembering her insult. “Can you really think of a thousand nuances?” She opens her mouth, her nerves practically bubbling out. “Hey, I’m kidding. I thought it was funny. Later. Much later.” That actually gets me a little laugh.

Pete comes home before I can text him. I ask him to let Maggie know what’s going on while I brief him on the situation.

After I get settled on the couch, I realize it’s around four in the morning. I don’t think much else because I promptly pass out, but not before a pair of sad, honeyed eyes float through my mind.

I don’t know how long I’m asleep before a blood-curdling scream jars me from my dream.

Sprinting toward my room with a pronounced limp, my heart is lodged firmly in my gut when I get to her. Pete meets me at the door, looking wild. I shrug and throw the door open. She’s quieted herself, so I don’t turn on the light. The moonlight casts a glow over a very still Denver. A too-still Denver, for someone who’s just released that scream. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’d dreamt it. Once my eyes adjust better, I can see that her eyes are moving steadily and her body is frozen, yet stretched completely out on my bed. I hobble over to the bed and sit beside her, reaching out and trying to wake her.

“Hey, Denver, you’re dreaming. Wake up,” I say gently. I don’t want to scare her any worse.

She thrashes around a little at the sound of my voice. I run my hands up and down her arms and hear her murmur the name Blake, which makes my teeth clench. Who the fuck is Blake? Another one of her “friends”?

I shake her a little harder on that thought. Did I think things had suddenly changed between us because of her vulnerable moment? If so, I’m stupider than I thought. “Denver,” I say gruffly. Finally, her eyes edge open.

“Greer?” she asks, obliviously confused. Fuck, how can she keep all their names straight?

“Nope, Ransom,” I mutter and hear the door close behind me.

“Ransom?”

“Yeah, you’re staying at my place. Remember? Bad night filled with evil bitches?”

Suddenly, she sits straight up and wraps her arms around me tightly. I hold my arms out to the side until she whispers, “Oh, thank God it’s you, Ransom.”

I am high at her relief that’s it me. I shouldn’t give a damn, but … damn. She whispers my name like a prayer, and it goes straight to my head like the purest form of oxygen. I wrap my arms around her and drop a kiss on the top of her head and know that I’m screwed. All that I buried for her is, not-so slowly, fighting its way to the surface. I can feel it clawing and scraping and freeing itself. “It’s all good. You’re OK.” I squeeze her in response to her squeezing of me. She turns her face and buries it my chest, breathing deeply. I shudder and gently push her away from me. I can only take so much.

“You good?”

She nods but then says, “Stay? With me. Please.”

“I don’t know—”

“It’s OK,” she rushes out, and panic registers in her eyes as she starts pushing me off the bed. “I don’t know what I meant, saying that. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

I chuckle. She’s anything but fine. I grab her wrists and still her arms. “I’ll stay.” I contemplate putting a shirt on, but don’t decide quickly enough because she’s flipped her wrists and is pulling me down next to her.

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-four

Denver

K
EEPING MY EYES
closed upon waking, I pray that when I finally do open them, I won’t be in Ransom’s room, his won’t be the warm body I’m wrapped around, and I won’t have forever lost the only person who’s ever tried to love me.

Lost.

Destroyed.

Scorched into nothingness.

I just don’t get how he could hurt me like that. That’s not true. I so got it. I was the lost one. Destroyed him in the process. And scorched us into nothingness. His actions were merely reactionary. A wrecking ball only goes the direction you send it. It was only fair that it had come crashing back into me full force.

That acceptance didn’t mean his betrayal hurt any less.

I can’t wallow in that though. I’ve got to get up and move on. Both figuratively and literally. What was I thinking last night? I practically begged Ransom not to make me leave and then begged him again to sleep with me.

Question is … how do I extract myself from him and make my great escape without waking him up? I look down our bodies and gauge how thoroughly we are tangled with each other. My bottom leg is thrown over his. His top leg snakes around mine. My arms are squeezed between our chests like I’m gearing up to box him, but his arms are wrapped firmly around me. One of his hands threads through my hair, and the other rests on my lower back. Ransom’s a cuddler? Who’d have thought it?

And it makes me feel … safe. I feel so safe in this moment. How I can feel this way in his arms after he’s been so damn mean to me, truly boggles the mind. I shake my head back and forth a little, and thoughts of how good he was to me last night rattle around. The way he helped me had been kind of funny. I could tell he really didn’t want to, but his manners had won out.

I am so numb though. Under normal circumstances I’d have given all that attitude back, but I just couldn’t last night. That had worked out in my favor since I can’t imagine anyone else would’ve helped me without a ton of questions. Questions I just wasn’t ready to answer yet. I don’t even know the answers myself right now. I just know I hurt.

Greer.

My golden boy.

Gone.

Tears spring up again. Damn. I can’t believe I have any left after last night.
Suck it up. You’ve got to get out of here.

Slipping my legs from his, I twist my middle and scoot. His legs and one arm fall away, but his one hand is still twisted in my hair. I wind my hand through and work to free his.
Ow!
It’s like his hand is fisted back there. I finally extract myself. Easing down to the end of the bed, I look over my shoulder at him.

He’s stretched out on his back now. The sheet had fallen, exposing him from the waist up. His is such a strange attractiveness. It’s like God had put together all the imperfect qualities he could think of to make this perfect-looking human being. Then Ransom had gone and adorned that perfectness with his own works of art—those glorious tattoos.

I’ve never really been able to study them before, but boy had I wanted to. Dark black barbed wire stretches across his biceps, and scrolls lick their way up both of his arms in an arrangement that didn’t make much sense to me, but, among them were representations of meaningful bits of his life—a bull, a cross, a cowboy hat, the number eight. I know there’s more, but no more are visible from here. He has those gorgeous sleeves, but then his chest and the rest of his body, all that I’d seen anyway, remain untouched. My eyes roam across his bare chest that had been kissed by the sun quite a bit, making the silver scar running along his collarbone shimmer. Most people appear vulnerable in their sleep, but not Ransom. He still looks like the badass he is. I can’t help the light sigh that my body releases.

I glance around the room, finally taking in my surroundings. It’s surprisingly neat and clean with very little adorning it—a couple of rodeo posters and one of a boxer. His array of cowboy hats hangs from the pegs on one wall. Underneath a few of them, hang his bull ropes.

Slipping out of the bed and out of the room, I close myself in the bathroom and pick up my clothes from last night. I should put them back on, but I’m not going to. Ransom will have to be OK with me borrowing his clothes. I slide the phone out of my pants pocket to call Maggie for a ride. I could walk, I guess, but really don’t feel up to it. I press the wake-up button but nothing. Great! I guess I’ll be walking home after all. I pull my socks and boots on quickly.

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