23. Supposed Gay Partner

Rhett

The next morning, the sun hitting my face feels like punishment. I don’t want to stand up and go about my day; I just want to sleep in and act like there is nothing to do.

But the minute I open my eyes, I freeze instantly. The sheets are tangled around my waist, and lying right next to me, completely naked and fast asleep, is Cassian.

Memories of last night flood my brain, and I feel so appalled at myself I can barely breathe. The way I had kissed him, the way I had shoved him onto the bed, and the things we did… things I had never done with anyone before, things that felt so much better than anything I had ever experienced.

Bloody fucking hell.

I had to have been crazy, or maybe drunk—but I know my mouth didn’t touch a drop of alcohol at the bonfire before I left. Even if it had, I have a relatively high tolerance, and I didn’t stay long enough for drinks. My brain is a chaotic mess because I can’t even begin to face the reality of what this means.

I can’t be here when he wakes up. I just can’t.

Very quietly, I slip out of the bed, put on some fresh clothes without showering, and grab my keys. I practically run out of the dorm building and head straight toward the campus mechanic shop where my car had been towed to replace the slashed tires and clean up that stupid red paint.

The mechanic hands me the spare keys I had given him, and I walk over to my car that he has parked outside his shop, letting out a small sigh of relief. It is finally fixed. But just as I reach out to pull the driver’s side door open, a sleek black car pulls up right behind me, blocking me in.

The door opens, and my father steps out.

My heart drops straight into my stomach once I see the look on his face. I wonder if he is mad about the car or about something else.

“Get into the car, Rhett,” he says coldly.

I’m completely confused, but the authority in his tone makes my legs move before I can even think to argue. “Dad? What’s going on? I have my car—”

“I said get in.”

I swallow hard, rounding the vehicle, and climb into his passenger seat. He puts the car in drive, and we pull out of the campus lot. He doesn’t say a single word, but I am already terrified from how hard he is gripping the steering wheel and how roughly he is driving. I stare out the window, the dread pooling in my gut. I know I am in deep trouble, but I don’t even know which mistake he is about to punish me for. I just know I’ve done something terrible and unforgivable in his books. And the fact that he is not even taking me to his office in the university, but to the house… yep… I am thoroughly fucked.

When we finally pull into the long driveway of his house, he cuts the engine and gets out without looking at me. I open my door and I follow him toward the front porch, wanting to get this over with.

We haven’t even made it to the front door yet when he suddenly wheels around and slaps me hard.

The force of his palm hitting my face is so brutal it rattles my skull. I stagger backward as I barely keep my balance. My cheek burns so much, and shock completely paralyzes me for a second.

“What the hell was that, Dad?!” I yell, pressing a hand against my face, staring at him with irritation.

“What the hell was what?” he mimics, stepping into my space, his face turning an ugly shade of red. “What are these disgusting rumors I am hearing about you from your peers, Rhett? Haven’t we been here before? What are these stories going around that you are gay? So the magazine wasn’t just it?”

Great, he still hasn’t forgotten about it, and he has no idea that Cassian planted that bullshit in there.

“They are just rumors, Father! It’s just stupid college gossip, it’s not true!” I say out of panic. Sure, no one has confirmed it, and I haven’t talked about my sexuality either, but I hate that the rumors are true.

“I don’t care if they are rumors!” he roars in anger. “The fact that this type of garbage is even spreading around your name is enough to ruin everything I’ve built for you. You know how I operate, Rhett. I will never accept that kind of behavior in my house. You have an obligation to continue my bloodline. You are going to marry Savannah, and you are going to give me heirs.”

He spits on the ground, looking at me with pure disgust. “I don’t care what the new modern-day whatever is saying about being gay, or if people want to start being more tolerant of that bullshit. I don’t care about whatever nonsense kids are doing these days. I will never condone that sort of filth from my own son. And since this supposed gay partner of yours is your roommate, I am going down to the administration office today to make sure he is taken out of your room permanently.”

“No!” The word tears out of my throat before I can stop it. Months ago, I had desperately wanted Cassian to not be my roommate and was mad when I was told it was impossible, but now… I should still hate him and want him out… but I don’t. Despite the torment, the endless pranks, and humiliation… “Come on, Dad, don’t do that! Think about it first. It’s just a rumor, and you should ask yourself where the source is even coming from!”

My father pauses, his eyes narrowing at me.

“The source of the rumor is Jacob!” I explain quickly, my voice desperate as I try to weave a believable lie. “Jacob has been doing everything in his power to tarnish my reputation because I got him kicked off the hockey team when he was trying everything stupid to become captain. I mean the petition… and then he got caught,” I say, rambling on and on. “He’s bitter, Dad. If you remove Cassian from my room right now, it’s only going to fuel the rumors even further! People on campus are going to see it and say, ‘Oh, look, Rhett’s dad has power, his dad knows he’s gay, so his dad had to separate them.’ It will make me look guilty!”

“Are you talking back to me?” my father whispers, his voice dropping into that terrifying tone.

“I’m just telling you the strategy, Dad, it’ll make the rumors worse—”

He doesn’t let me finish. He grabs the front of my shirt and yanks me forward, his fist colliding with my ribs. A sharp gasp escapes my lips as the air is completely knocked out of me. He keeps hitting me so hard that I feel weak. Helpless and like I am about to die—right now, it is even what I wish for. After all, dead men can’t feel pain or deal with this bullshit.

By the time he shoves me away, pushing me onto the gravel roughly, I am trembling violently, clutching my stomach.

“Get out of my sight,” he seethes, turning his back on me and walking into the house, slamming the front door shut.

I lie down there in the quiet driveway for a long minute, trying to stop the tears from falling down my face. The humiliation is too much and the pain is blinding. I can’t stay here, and I don’t even have my car. Also, with my father raging like a madman, I dare not take any of the spare ones in the garages to transport myself back to school.

I turn around and just start walking down the long, empty road away from the house, my body aching with every single step I take. I pull my phone out of my pocket with trembling fingers. My mind tells me to call Savannah, or call Matt, or call anyone else.

But against my better will, my fingers slide over the contacts until I find his name.

I press call, holding the phone to my ear as it rings, my chest heaving as I try to swallow the lump in my throat.

The line clicks open.

“Hey,” I choke out. “Can you… can you come and pick me up?”