64. "Baby, I Fucked Up" and "Stay"

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Two days after Gunnar's attack, I fidgeted on the edge of my bed, distressed and anxious

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Two days after Gunnar's attack, I fidgeted on the edge of my bed, distressed and anxious.

But not because of Gunnar, fuck him, I had more important things to worry about.  

Like Daniel, who wasn't buying my story, no matter how many times I told it. I think he suspected the truth, or some variation of it, because he kept gently but firmly insisting that I tell him what had really happened, making sure to keep a larger-than-usual physical distance from me while he did.

It had enraged me. I could never feel threatened by Daniel and it broke my heart to see him like that, cowering as though he had to apologize for being male. Fuck that, Gunnar wasn't a man, he was a miserable, disgusting thing and I wouldn't let his actions affect the real men that I cared about.

I'd taken Daniel's hand in mine, looked him in the eye and repeated the lie. He'd let it go, but I could see him digging his heels in and settling in for the long run. This was far from over as far as he was concerned. 

Then there was Peyton, who wouldn't stop texting. He was going back to school on Sunday and I was running out of excuses not to see him.

There was no way Peyton would leave without seeing me, and my face looked worse than it did the night of the attack. I had no idea how he would react to it, but I was pretty sure I didn't want to find out.

Or maybe I should tell him.

Peyton would do something about it, that much I knew. He'd be smart about it too, and had the resources to get away with it, but what if he didn't? I couldn't risk something bad happening to him any more than I could, Jake.

Jake, the number one cause of my worries, currently AWOL and driving me up the wall.

Last night, he'd told me he was going out with Garrett. Fine, he did go out with his friends every once in a blue moon, even though he was more of a homebody who preferred to stay in, usually with me and Daniel.

Then tonight, he'd told me that he was going out again, this time, with Chase. I'd told him no, playing up the part of neglected girlfriend. I'd done it all in front of Daniel too, but we'd argued anyway and it had ended with Jake walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

I'd tried to convince myself that he was telling the truth, that maybe he'd needed a breather or something.

But at nine, I'd gone back to my locker to retrieve my phone charger and had seen Chase there, working the night shift. And no, he hadn't seen Jake since the morning.

I'd called him over and over again, even trying him with Daniel's cell. He hadn't pick up, so I paced by the windows, looking for headlights, clutching my phone to my chest. 

At midnight, Daniel had come out of his bedroom, fully dressed.

"Goin' out," he'd said, pulling his Stetson on.

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