“Just to get rid of him, I picked a random CD and gave it to him,” she said, her breath hitching. “He took it, threw it on the dresser, and then he—” Her voice broke. “He tried to kiss me. I didn’t want it. I told him I didn’t want it. He got angry and pushy. Shoved me on the bed and climbed over me, and then he pinned me under him and tried to kiss me again, promising I’d enjoy it.”

The rage inside me pulsed, hot and overwhelming.

Beverly’s breath was coming out in sharp, panicked gasps. “His hands went everywhere, Blake. I wanted to throw up. When he started kissing my neck, I reached for his face and clawed at him. Kicked him in the balls. He got off me, screaming about what a tease I was. Everyone heard him. The guys laughed. The girls pointed and whispered.”

I didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. My entire body trembled with barely contained violence. My chest burned with the kind of rage that made men do terrible things without regret.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” she whispered. “You’re not saying anything because it’s my fault.”

And that was when I lost the last shred of control.

My hands shot to her face, cupping it, forcing her to look at me. “Don’t,” I bit out. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

“But I followed him to his room⁠—”

“That doesn’t mean shit, B. You didn’t want it. The second you pushed him away, he should have stopped. The second you said no, it should have been over.”

She watched me with wide eyes. “Do you hate me?”

“Hate you?” My breath left me in a sharp exhale. “I hate myself for not being there.”

My rage was a living, breathing thing now.

I saw Mason’s face in my head, imagined my fist breaking it apart. Imagined his ribs caving under my weight. Imagined him screaming, begging⁠—

I swallowed it all down, but it wasn’t going anywhere.

He touched her.

He touched her and they laughed about it.

Mason didn’t know it yet, but he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

“You take me to every party from now on,” I told her. “I want to be there. Do you hear me?” I saw the flicker of hesitation in her eyes before she nodded, but I wasn’t satisfied. I needed verbal confirmation. “Say it, B.”

“I hear you.”

I let out a breath, but it did nothing to put out the fire burning in my chest. “Did he hurt you?”

She hesitated again, and something in me twisted so hard, I thought I might collapse. “Beverly,” I pressed. “Did he hurt you?”

She opened the towel just enough to show me her left wrist.