"Fuck." Wes muttered, throwing his head back against his pillow.
"Who is that?" I asked, recognizing Reese's laugh but unable to identify the second, muffle chuckle.
"One of Reese's prison buddies just got out and Reese told him he could stay here for a couple of nights to celebrate. Fucker didn't even ask me." Wes said, rubbing his hand over his face.
He looked down at me and noticed my wide-eyed expression, "Let's get out of here. I don't want you around that shit."
"Why don't you just tell him to go if you don't want him here?" I questioned him.
Wes sighed, and got up from the bed, grabbing my bra and tank top and handing them to me. He slipped on a t-shirt while I redressed.
"Reese said the guy had his back a lot when some of the other guys tried to pick a fight. I feel like I kind of owe him for looking after my brother," he explained, and I nodded, understanding.
"What'd he do to go to prison?" I asked, nervous for the answer. For all I knew there was a serial killer in the living room.
Wes shrugged, "I didn't ask. Reese just said that the guy did some fucked up shit but he was good to him, so I didn't ask anymore. I guess he was supposed to be locked up for another few months or so but got sprung early for good behavior. So I guess he can't be too bad."
I shrugged as Wes packed some clothes into a duffle bag, and grabbed his toothbrush and a few other items.
"Going somewhere?" I teased.
"As a matter of fact, I am," Wes smiled, and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me towards him for a kiss. "I'm spending the night at my girlfriend's place."
"Lucky girl," I smiled, taking his hand as we headed out of his bedroom. I walked in front of him and grabbed my purse from the counter, waving a greeting to Reese who was sitting on the sofa with a beer. I grabbed my phone from the counter as I heard the bathroom door open and heavy footsteps walk out. I knew it was Reese's friend and I couldn't contain my curiosity. I turned and locked eyes with a pair of dark brown eyes, so dark that they were almost black. His skin was light, his head shaved, and he wore a white tank top, showing off his thick biceps and narrow waist. Unlike Wes and Reese, his chest and arms were bare of tattoos, but he had two fake diamond studs in each of his earlobes.
I stepped back, and my back slammed into Wes's chest, his arm coming around my middle, possessively. Every muscle in my body froze and my vision blurred. I was paralyzed by a fear that I had only ever felt once before in my life. A fear that only worsened when the almost-black eyes widened in surprise before narrowing at me, and a wide grin appeared on his face.
I felt a tear slip down my cheek as I whispered, "Jesse."
SEVENTEEN
"Brookelyn? What's wrong, baby?" Wes asked, turning me towards him. I could see that he was searching my face but I couldn't take my eyes off of Jesse.
More tears flowed from my eyes when he spoke. His voice sent a shudder of fear throughout my body.
"Why are you crying, Brookey Baby? You think I'm gonna hurt you or something'?" Jesse said, laughing at his own sick joke.
"Brookey baby … " Reese was standing in between us, confused by Jesse's nickname. I could see the wheels turning in his mind and then understanding flash through his eyes. Understanding was soon replaced with shock, anger, and fear. Jesse must have told him why he was in prison, and used my name when he told it, for Reese to catch on so quickly.
"Oh, FUCK, no," Reese spat, and gave his brother a look. "Get her out of here Wes!"
A silent conversation took place between Wes and Reese, and Wes understood the urgency of the situation. I was still unable to move, a sob racking through my body as I continued to stare into the eyes that I saw every single night in my worst nightmares.
I was vaguely aware of Wes picking me up, cradling me to his body as he walked us out of the apartment and placed me into his truck. I could hear shouting from inside of the apartment but I couldn't make out what was being said.
Wes furiously wiped the tears away from my face and I could see that his own eyes were filled with worry. The only words that I could manage through my sobs were to tell Wes to get me out of there. He looked unsure for a moment but quickly pulled himself together and got into the truck, speeding out of the driveway and over to my apartment.
When we got there, Wes pulled me back into his arms and carried me inside, managing to grab my keys and unlock the door as I lied motionless against his body. He didn't put me down until we were inside of my bedroom, and he gently placed me on my bed where I curled into a ball and let myself go, crying hysterically.
Wes came around to the other side of the bed and pulled me into his arms, holding me closely while my body shook, draining my eyes of every possible tear.
We stayed like that for a while, my sobs finally subsiding. Wes kept his head pressed against the top of mine, while gently placing kisses on my forehead and running his hands through my hair soothingly.
"Please tell me what just happened, Brookelyn," Wes pleaded softly, moving his head back and tilting my chin up with his thumb and pointer fingers so that I was looking up at him.
"I-I can't," I hiccupped, new tears forming in my eyes.
"Brookelyn," Wes shushed me softly, rocking me in his arms like a toddler. "Please...I'm about to call Elle. You're scaring me."
"No!" I shouted, but quickly calmed myself and sighed, "Don't call Elle."
I didn't need Elle finding out about this right now. I don't know what she'd do but I did know that I needed time to process everything that had just happened.
"I won't. But you need to tell me what the fuck just happened back there." His words were pained and I felt horrible for hurting him. I knew I had to tell him the truth and stop avoiding it.
I took a deep breath, keeping my face buried against Wes's chest, not wanting to see the look on his face, "That was Jesse … my ex-boyfriend."
I heard his sharp inhale, "What do you mean, Brooke?"
Keeping my gaze away from his, I forced myself to think back to that day and remember every detail, repeating every word aloud, praying to God that it didn't make Wes leave me. Taking a long, deep breath, I started from the very beginning.
"I met Jesse the first week of school last year, at my old school. I was a freshman and he was a senior, but we were in the same Art History class. He was sweet and he thought I was beautiful," I whispered, "and one day after class, he asked me out on a date. I was so excited. He took me to a nice restaurant and then we went to an arcade and he kept playing this one game until he finally won enough tickets to buy me the stuffed giraffe that I had thought was cute. After that we started spending a lot of time together. I'd bring my roommate, Skyler, with me over to the house that he had shared with a couple of his friends, and we'd all hang out.
One day I had gone over to his house to meet him and I walked in without knocking, like I always had, and I saw him doing lines of cocaine off of the coffee table. I was shocked. I had never even seen him get more than a little drunk, never mind do any drugs. I started crying and tried to leave, but he grabbed me and apologized and told me he's never done it before and he promised never to do it again. I told him I wouldn't have a drug user for a boyfriend and left letting him know I didn't want to see him until he was sober.
We talked the next day and he promised me he would never touch that stuff ever again. At this point we'd been together for about three months and I thought that I had loved him. And I thought that if I loved him, I couldn't just walk away because he made one mistake. Well, over the next few weeks Jesse started acting differently. At the time I had just told myself that it was from the stress of midterms. He would yell at me over nothing, accuse me of talking to other guys, and of not loving him. I just swore to him that it wasn't true, and he'd eventually forget about it and apologize for yelling at me, telling me that he just loved me so much that he was scared that I would leave him. He was always possessive about our relationship but it had started out as cute. You know, joke warnings to other guys if they looked at me, or he'd always keep his arm around me when we were in a large group, silently reminding everyone that I was his. But it had started to become more serious. I couldn't see him much one week because of midterms, and I had already been doing badly in my classes from spending so much time with him instead of doing work. So, I had to ace my tests in order to keep my scholarships. Well, he flipped out and accused me of cheating on him behind his back. He had followed me one afternoon when I left my dorm and met up with this kid Pete from my political science class so that we could finish up the project we were assigned rather than having a written assessment. He told me he had seen me meet up with Pete and he knew I was lying to him. He refused to believe that I was really working on a project."