Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 153

ALLISON’S POV

JOSH: You’ve had Kristy for a month and Allie still won’t even give me the time of day.

Had Kristy? What the hell does that even mean?

SAM: Bet he hasn’t even told her yet.

JOSH: She almost bit me, so… yeah.

CAIN: Yo, Sam, why are you so weird about this?

SAM: Because we only get our cut when Josh does his thing, dumbass.

My stomach twists and bile rises in my throat. Cut? Are they talking about me? What the actual hell is this about?

My fingers are trembling so much I can barely hold the phone as I scroll up, digging through older messages mostly from Sean to the group.

SEAN: Think she’s catching on? She’s been off lately.

SEAN: Still pissed about the anal stuff.

SEAN: Used to think she’s freakier than Kristy… can’t believe we got that wrong.

JOSH: You better not be fucking my girl for nothing. I want Allie.

I clutch my stomach, feeling everything I managed to eat churn.

This can’t be real. I shake my head, desperate to make it stop. No.

This has to be fake. Sean can’t be saying this, plotting this, planning this.

And then Josh… what he said at the party clicks into place.

Oh. My. God.

It all makes sense, too much sense. My chest tightens, my head spins, and I know if I don’t get out of here, I’m going to throw up.

Another text pops in, this one from Josh.

JOSH: Reading and not replying? Wanna get fucked up? No more pics, no more videos. Get her to agree with the deal.

What… what pictures?

My fingers scroll faster, heart hammering, and knees weak, as everything I thought I knew shatters with every second.

And then I see them.

No.

Tears stream down my face as my grip on the phone loosens.

My photos.

Sean sent them here…to seven people. To his friends.

These are pictures I trusted him with and some…some I didn’t even know he took. I’m naked in all of them, and some are so bad they don’t even feel real, like something pulled straight out of a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

I stagger back, clutching my chest because it feels like my heart might actually explode.

I raise the phone higher now, my hand shaking. “Does backing out magically delete my photos? Does it make them unsee my clit?”

“Allie, please, I’m sorry,” he begs, shaking.

I hate his face. I hate the way he’s begging like this is forgivable, like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. There’s no remorse, just panic now that it’s blown up in his face, and it makes me feel sick.

“Allie, please..” That’s the last thing I hear before I pounce on him.

I slam him against the wall. He groans and slides to the floor, dazed but I don’t stop. My hand closes around a game controller on the coffee table. I swing it down, over and over. One, two, three… by the fifth hit, he’s a mess.

He’s bleeding, sobbing, but it’s not enough. I want more than just blood, I want to feel the life leave him. I drop the controller and lung for his neck, my fingers locking around his throat and I squeeze with every ounce of hate I have left.

“Die, Sean!” I scream right into his face. “I hate you!”

He chokes and tries to pull my hands off. “Pl..ease, sto..p.”

My tears drip onto his face while I squeeze and I don’t let go until his hands drop weakly. With a gasp, I slump back, my chest heaving as I sob.

I’m crying so hard I can barely see, but I still crawl for the phone. My hands won’t stop shaking as I open the chat, my vision blurring while I delete everything: every photo, every message, every trace I can reach. I go through his gallery too, wiping it empty like I can scrub myself out of his hands, out of their mouths.

When I’m done, I throw the phone at him and the sound of his pathetic whimper brings the rage right back.

I wipe my face and scramble to my feet, kicking his leg hard.

“If I ever see you again,” I scream at him, “it better be because you’ve fixed my car!”

I grab my purse and stagger out, the door slamming behind me as sobs rip out of me.