Page 62 of Hidden Fears
“Let’s go.”
“What?” Her brows draw together in confusion.
“Let’s go to my car,” I repeat, my voice stony. I’m barely able to contain myself at this point.
Her eyes turn into tiny slits. “Why? Who the hell told you you can order me around?”
I watch her, not blinking, and say in a lower, more dangerous voice, “Get your ass into my fuckin’ car. Now.”
That makes her hold her tongue and swallow a dry lump. I can see her throat moving. She blinks slowly, glances at Jake and then back at me.
“Now, Josie,” I hiss, barely able to speak.
She grabs her purse and scampers away. When she’s out of sight, I look at Jake. “I’ll let it slide this last time because you did something honorable for a change. The next time, we’ll be having a different talk.”
He gives a short nod of understanding and motions for Rory to get him a drink.
I leave them to themselves and go outside, expecting Josie to wait for me.
But she’s nowhere to be seen. Looking around, I try to get a glimpse of her white dress and her raven hair, but she’s not here.
Right then, right in front of my face, a tiny red car drives by me, and Josie’s smiling face appears in the driver’s window.
Little minx!
I’ve been waiting for her to give me a reason to break free. I think she just did.
ChapterTwenty
JOSIE
As I watch Sheriff Benson’s mouth fall open as I drive past him, I hold onto the steering wheel with a death grip.What am I doing?
Having fun? Maybe. Awakening the beast? Definitely. Feeling truly myself for the first time in years? Hell yes.
Because even from here, I can see his eyes narrowing as he watches me go. And that makes me feelgood.
Then, in the rearview mirror, I see him slowly walking to his car without giving me a second glance. I don’t know what I expected, but this total disregard was not it. Because that’s what it looks like. All my good feelings quickly die down, and my playful mood evaporates.
Sighing to myself, because I’ve clearly made up too many stories in my mind while there’s nothing happening in reality, I relax in my seat and go through the events of the last few hours.
To say I went bananas at the mention of mysteriousJennica(I still can’t remember where I’ve heard her name) and himbeing in the doghousewould be an understatement. But I was also hurt. I felt like he gutted me even though he didn’t owe me a thing.
And then, when I got my groove back after picking up a few supplies at the hardware store, I discovered him cozying up with another woman, who had a grip of ownership on his corded arm—fuck me for even noticing it.
Turns out Sheriff Benson is a ladies’ man. Suddenly feeling on the same side asJennica, I decided to be a menace for the both of us since this Jennica wasn’t there to protect her honor.
When the woman on Sheriff’s arm opened her mouth, I immediately recognized her type. We had one of those back home too. Everyone does. It’s like they never left high school—no matter where you go and which society you enter, there will always be mean ones, bullied ones, jocks, nerds, pretty ones, ugly ones, powerful ones, smart ones, and the list just goes on. Since I came to Little Hope, I feel like I’ve entered a high school cafeteria with me at its gossipy center as ‘the new girl.’ Lucky me, since I’ve got some experience navigating those.
Then I went to the local bar to find a space where Sheriff doesn’t appear out of thin air. I’d been chatting with Rory, a super smart woman who pretends to bejust pretty, for some time when a city boy with a swagger that suggested he had a Ferrari and very deep pockets came up to me. I recognized the type instantly, and besides that, he reminded me of Randy a bit—expensive clothes, popular cologne, and a horrible attitude.
Refusing his ‘generous’ offer to go to the bathroom to ‘blow off some steam’ didn’t work as expected. He leaned closer and closer, saying that he could play this coy game all day long and liked ‘little girls playing hard to get.’ And that’s when I nearly vomited and wanted to pour my drink over his head while twisting his balls in my palms.
Then his hand landed on my ass before I could do anything.
A local guy, Jake, deemed a villain by many as I’ve learned over the month I’ve been here, came out of nowhere and grabbed the man’s arm off my ass, twisted it in the air, and exchanged a few words with him I absolutely cannot recall since they were said so quietly, only they could hear them. Then the guy threw a punch—a very weak one, even I could throw one better—and Jake retaliated with just one punch to his nose. That was all it took for him to back down. Took too much, in my opinion. My word should have been enough from the beginning, but I guess he’s somewhat right—legend says women wearing dresses go to the bars only to get noticed by horny men and get fucked in bathroom stalls. Apparently, nothing we do, even dressing up, is for us, and everything is for them.
While I was pressing the ice pack Rory gave me to Jake’s hand, the hero of the hour tried to wiggle away, but I held him tight, repeating how grateful I was for his intervention. I didn’t need his help, but I was glad to see that chivalry was not dead. And he just kept averting his eyes, not knowing what to do with my gratitude. I suddenly got mad at every man and woman who made him this way because that man has a story, and I have a feeling no one knows about it.
