Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(87)
I’ve not let her out of my arms for one fucking second of the half hour we’ve been home. I bathed her, washed her hair, and almost doubled over when I noticed a shadow of a bruise forming on her face.
I dressed her, too, even despite her protests. She’s wearing my hoodie. The same one I wore last night when we sat in the garden, eating pizza. My heart squeezed tightly when she said she wanted it because it smells like me and calms her down.
She sits between my legs on the bed while I do a lousy job braiding her wet hair.
“He called me Cootie Mia in kindergarten,” she says, her voice detached, emotionless. “And four eyes in middle school because I wore very thick glasses.”
“He?” I part her hair in the middle for the third time, dividing it in three sections. “The guy who hurt you tonight?”
“His name’s Jake. He nicknamed me Blow Job Lips in high school. Pushed me, slingshot spitballs at me, tied me up, and locked me in the janitorial closet for hours.” She sighs softly, no longer shaking but still too tense. “Blair was his right-hand man. She cut up my clothes or stole them when I showered after Phys Ed. She stuck gum in my hair, threw food at me in the cafeteria, shoved me to my knees... It stopped at college. Jake’s father shipped him off to Brown, and Blair got busy with boys, but everything started again when I broke Brandon’s nose.”
“You’re being bullied?” I ask, the muscles in my back tensing painfully. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not how you imagine,” she admits, her voice breaking like eggshells. “I’m sorry, I—” She gets up, taking a few steps away, and the braid I’ve been working on falls apart. “Don’t be mad at the triplets, okay? They didn’t know.”
“About what? Baby, I don’t want to push if you’re not ready to talk, but I need to know what happened. Johnny said the triplets started a fight.”
She bobs her head, toying with her bracelets. She hasn’t done that for a while, growing more confident as the weeks go by, but she’s afraid again, uncertain...
I hate seeing her like this. All the more because she’s been avoiding my gaze since I brought her home.
She drapes her damp hair over one shoulder, sinking her teeth in her bottom lip. “Conor hit Brandon, and soon enough, everyone was fighting. I think Grayson told them what Brandon did after the Spring Break party...”
“What did he do?”
She sits beside me. Her chin trembles and fresh tears pool in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would get out of hand like this. It was just a stupid game. I tried to deal with it myself. I didn’t want you to know.” She bites her lip, gouging her nails into my hand. “When college resumed, Brandon said I had to pay for the parties he missed because of his broken nose. He said I had to spend two weeks in his bed.” She’s pinching her rings, clearly afraid to look at me. “I said no, but he wasn’t getting the message, then Blair’s jealousy started getting out of hand.”
“What does Blair have to do with this?”
“She loves Brandon. Whenever he gets too close to me, she makes me pay. Coffee in my face, the pictures, my—” She halts, leaving the sentence unfinished. “The point is—”
“Not so fast,” I cut in. “Finish what you were going to say. What else did Blair do?”
Another tear rolls down her cheek, and she swats it away, inhaling deeply. “Brandon stopped by one of my classes, and Blair got jealous. She wallpapered the wall outside the auditorium with pictures of me naked in pornstar poses. They weren’t real, just my face photoshopped onto actual porn, but everyone laughed and...” She pushes a long, calming breath down her nose. “I got nauseous, ran into the bathroom, and the next thing I knew, my hair was on fire.”
“She burned your hair?” My pulse throbs in my fingertips, a biblical kind of fury sweeping me from head to toe. “You said it was candles! Why did you lie?”
Seeing her so scared and vulnerable guts me like a fucking fish, and knowing she’s afraid of my reaction makes it ten times worse. She’s shaking, quiet defeat painting her face.
“Mia... there’s more, right? What else are you hiding?”
“He offered money,” she blurts out, pinching her lips and wiping more tears off her nose. “Brandon. Five grand for the first one of his teammates who gets me in bed.”
A few long, silent seconds pass while I make sense of what she said. Once it sinks, I can’t fucking sit still.
“Jesus,” I huff, jumping to my feet, feeling like a loaded gun that’s unsure where to aim. I’m fighting not to let my colors shine, but my temper is uncontainable. I see red. Literally red. Anger has always been my primary addiction. Now, it spreads like the vibration of a church bell as the next sentence gets pushed past my clenched teeth. “Did anyone try to win?”
She nods, tearing her cuticles off. “Brandon kept it clean for a while. Five grand, just the football team... I think they had to have consent, but all bets are off now. It’s twenty-five grand, and the whole campus knows.”
“Is this why the triplets were teaching you self-defense? They know about this?”
“No! Of course, not. They only found out tonight. The lessons were because of Brandon. He’s been trying to get me in bed for a long time. They did come in handy, though. Only twice. Most guys are decent. It’s not about the money for them. They just want to stick it in Brandon’s face.”