My dad pulls me behind him and pushes open the door. “What the hell . . .?”
I peek around and there, in the middle of the living room, is Trevor. He’s sitting on a chair, his arms pulled behind his back and secured with duct tape, his ankles the same.
“Nash, please, call the police!” Trevor’s voice is weaker than I’ve ever heard it.
“I am so . . .” Gage is sitting in the corner, his knees cocked, forearms resting on them, his hair loose and wild, hanging over eyes that are glaring at me. “Disappointed.”
“Lucas—”
I grip my dad’s biceps. “That’s Gage,” I whisper.
Gage chuckles. “I cannot believe you’d be attracted to a man like this.” He motions to Trevor, disgust twisting his gorgeous face. “He’s already cried twice.” A maniacal laugh bursts from his lips. “I don’t even have a weapon!”
My dad steps deeper into the room, closing the door behind us. He stares between Trevor and Gage but finally addresses Gage. “What’s going on, son?”
Gage’s eyes flicker with emotion at the fatherly tone in my dad’s voice. “Mr. Nash . . .” He pushes up from his seated position but doesn’t move any closer. He runs a hand through his hair to smooth it down in what seems like an attempt to look more presentable. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Gage.” My dad nods.
Gage’s eyes find mine and his eyebrows lift in a silent, You told him.
I nod back. As much as I want to hate Gage for what he did, how badly I want him to know the hurt he put me through, I can’t. I have to believe he acted out of self-preservation, some inherent defense to avoid any kind of emotional abuse. God, I’m sick, but I still love him.
“This fucking psycho is holding me hostage!” Trevor breaks the silence.
Gage rolls his eyes and saunters forward. My gaze devours his shirtless torso and the way his gray sweats hang loose around narrow hips. He’s the walking definition of dangerous and sexy. His eyes fix on mine. “Was he always such a drama queen?”
My dad stabs a finger in the air. “Someone better start talking or I’m calling the sheriff.”
Gage glares at Trevor, making my ex’s face drain of what little color it had. “This piece of shit showed up on my doorstep to fucking interrogate me. He was asked to leave. Multiple times. He wouldn’t.” He shrugs. “So I dragged him inside, tied him down.” He flashes me a wicked grin. “We had a little chat about his intentions with the lovely Shy Ann.”
This gets both my and my dad’s attention and Trevor shifts uncomfortably in his binds.
“Seems he had plans to drag you to Los Angeles, but not to help you with your career goals.” Gage smacks Trevor on the backside of his head, making him yelp. “He was going to make you his whore.”
“Ha! Yeah, well, he could’ve tried.” I glare at my ex-friend. “Like I’d ever let him touch me again.”
“You fucking liar!” Trevor’s face screws tight and a vein bulges from his forehead. “You would’ve done anything I asked to get to Los Angeles. Don’t go acting all self-righteous now. You fucked me all through college just to get a job, and don’t—”
“Heard enough.” My dad crosses to Trevor and pulls him up from the chair. Keeping his wrists and ankles bound, he tosses him over his shoulder. “I’ll be outside. Callin’ Austin to come pick up this sack of crap. You two talk about whatever you need to talk about before the sheriff gets here. And you?” He stares down at Gage. “I’m trusting you with my daughter. Don’t make me regret it.”
Gage stands a little taller. “Sir.”
Satisfied with Gage’s response, my dad heads out with a wiggling and irate Trevor over his shoulder. Once the door closes, I face Gage. Silence builds between us, both of us daring the other to talk first.
“You hurt me.”
He rocks back and his shoulders slump, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know.”
“Why?” The single word comes out like a cry from my soul.
“I thought . . . fuck. I saw you at the hospital. He kissed you.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “You were there? It wasn’t what you think—”
“Luke knew it wasn’t. He understood.” He shifts on his feet and finally brings his eyes to mine. “It was me. I was . . . scared. Thought we’d lose you.”
“So you pushed me away first.”
His eyelids drop in a slow blink. That’s a yes.
“I’m not used to feeling this”—he digs his fingertips into the space between his pecs—“deep. It’s fucking scary.” His molten-gray stare meets mine. “I don’t get scared.”
I wish like hell his explanation could erase the memory and take away the heartache of what he did. “You’ll never trust me enough to love me.”