Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(19)

“No one’s gonna want it—it’s already inscribed.”

“Yes, but can’t you buff it out—”

He shoves it to me. “Sell it to one of those places that pays cash for gold. They might give you more.”

I can’t deal with the thought of it being disassembled and melted down. At least if I pawn it, I’ll know that someone else will use it.

He lets out a resigned sigh. “I see that look in your eye. It means something to you. You’re going to try to buy it back. So just pawn it. Three hundred.”

“Will you sell it to one of those gold places?”

He leans in over the counter. “I won’t trade it unless it doesn’t sell in three months.”

That’s actually . . . nice. Oh, wait. “How much would it cost to buy it back?”

He shrugs. “I’ll sell it back to you at twenty-five percent interest.”

I gaze at it in despair. I don’t want to part with it, any more than I want to part with my own heart.

But I need to let it go.

There’s no point trying to buy it back.

One by one, I’m losing everything we once owned. First it was our house, then the furniture, my car, and now this.

“Four hundred,” I counter.

“I don’t make deals.”

“Three-seventy-five.”

He blows out a breath, his gaze softening a hair. “Okay. I’m in a good mood today. Deal.”

My chest relaxes. With the other money I gave Connor, that’s enough to pay him the rest of what I owe plus get a start on other bills I need to pay. I still have rent, utilities, school supplies, and food. I’d love to buy something besides ramen and soup.

I leave the pawn store and pull out my phone to make the call I’ve been dreading.

Connor answers with a grouchy, “Yeah?”

“It’s Julia,” I say as I cross the street, heading toward the laundromat. “I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know who that guy was.”

“Interesting.”

“Really, I have no clue. Anyway, he spooked me so much, I ran. But I have the rest of your money for the month.”

He cackles. “Yeah, right, my money. Leave it under the doormat.”

I frown, unease rising. I thought for sure he’d be more pissed. “What?”

“You heard me. Leave it.”

I hesitate, wondering what this means. “All right . . .”

“Later,” he says, and there’s nothing but dead air.

I pocket my phone as I head to the laundromat, checking behind me every two steps. He’s not just going to let this go. What if he has guys waiting on me?

I might even wind up like Gina—gone forever, part-myth, part cautionary tale.

When I reach the laundromat, I look around, but the area’s empty except for a few people gathering in the shadows of the sidewalk. A long set of metal stairs on the side of the building looms like a one-way street to danger.

My head flashes to an image of me in a ditch.

Eyes open, staring at nothing.

I push it away and take the stairs, trying to be quiet, but my sneakers ping against each tread. When I reach the doormat, I half-expect a gun to be pointed in my face.

I lift the Wipe Your Paws doormat and stick the cash underneath. I descend the staircase like I have wings and point myself toward home, checking behind me every few seconds.

My phone pings with a text. From Parker. What r u up to? Wanna fuck?

Seriously?

I scroll back over his previous texts, ones he sends every week.

Just checkin’ in.

Miss ur tight pussy.

Saw u today. Fuckin’ hot.

My cock is calling ur name.

Ju-Ju, where u at? Coffee? Lunch? Dinner?

At the lake. Without u. Whore. Gonna fuck this girl in the ass and say ur name when I cum.

My jaw tics.

He can’t understand why I broke up with him. Does he think I like these messages? Should I be scared of him? I don’t know. I thought I knew him, but this is over the top.

Pushing it aside,

I text my mother to check in. R u okay?

My throat tightens when she doesn’t reply.

I’m worried about u, I send.

It’s been a few days since we talked, and I need to give her a heads up about Connor. He might take what happened out on her.

By the time I get home, there’s still no reply from her. Exhaustion takes its toll as I trudge up the stairs. Maybe I can borrow Taylor’s car and drive around town and look for Mom. She stays with friends on and off. I can check in with them and the usual bars she likes.

I fall into my bed, lashes fluttering closed.

I should do that . . .

I’m asleep before I realize it.





8





Eric





“Hansen. Thumb up your ass?” Boone snarks as he sails past me on the ice.

Yeah, I missed the puck. It sailed between my legs.

Falcon, one of our reserve defensemen, snatches it and shoots it into the other goal.

Perfect.

That’s the third pass from Boone I’ve missed.

He arcs around and slides to a stop in front of me. “What’s your deal?”

I slap my helmet. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”