Santa’s Pucking Hat Trick (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

24. Wes

24

WES

I ’d said her name, but until Sharon answered me with a haughty, “Hello, Wesley,” I almost believed I was hallucinating her presence behind Sawyer.

Now, seeing her standing there in her own attempt at a fuck-me dress that fell horribly flat when she was measured up against Rachel, I only wished this was my mind playing tricks on me.

“I thought you’d gotten the message by now, Shar,” I gritted out, struggling to contain myself. The volcano of disgust and anger was threatening to erupt, obliterating this entire bar in its wake. “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”

“Oh, I got your little message, alright,” Sharon sneered. Her eyes slid over to Rachel, who stood a little bit behind Sawyer. We’d all gotten out of our seats, hyped up on adrenaline and something like horny rage. Sharon looked over Rachel’s body, and I wanted to gouge out her eyes for even daring to do that. “I guess this is the skank you were fucking in that video you sent me, huh?”

Silence fell around us, the usual bustle of the bar dying in seconds. Sharon had made sure to proclaim this as loudly and as crudely as she could. Fuck. In a town this small, this bombshell would get around to everyone in mere hours. It could get back to the bigwigs who hired Rachel. It could get back to Michael.

Sharon was still trying to ruin my life. And as she stepped forward, she wobbled a little on her heels. Jesus, was she drunk?

“If you think I’ll take you back now, Wesley, you’re even dumber than you look,” my ex half slurred. “This b-bitch probably has a million frickin’ diseases that she’s given you in your attempt to g-get over me , and I ‘ave too much class to catch her-herpes,” Sharon burp-hiccuped.

“Wow,” I heard Rachel laugh, disbelieving. “Shaming people for STIs, making shit up, and internalized misogyny? She’s a real keeper, Wes.”

“Shut up!” Sharon snapped, but she was still looking at me. She tried to step forward again, but Sawyer stopped her with a hand on her upper chest. “She’s just gonna leave you for someone with a bigger dick and m-more money, Wes,” Sharon told me, desperation rising in her voice. I winced at her new level of volume, her new painfully high pitch. She wouldn’t stop. “That’s what you’re r-ruining us for. Who’s gonna want you if I don’t? Poor, nerdy little Wes.”

The laugh that came out of her mouth was like something out of a movie villain monologue. Messier, but just as full of malice. How had I ever loved this woman?

“I’ve had enough of this,” I heard Rachel mutter, and in the next minute, she was gently guiding Sawyer back, facing Sharon herself with determination squaring her shoulders.

“I don’t know you, Sharon, but you’ve made it pretty clear I don’t want to. This little scene?” Rachel waved a hand, gesturing at all of us, and I wanted to laugh at how condescending it came off as. That was my ice queen. Coming to my rescue. “It’s ridiculous. You know you were stupid as fuck to let Wes go, and this is the saddest possible way of trying to get your claws back into him. After all the awful bullshit you made Wes believe about himself and his body and his worth, I think you are the one who’s worried no one else will ever love you. Because honestly, why the fuck would they? You’re pathetic.”

Sharon’s lip quivered like she was going to cry. Some of Rachel’s savage energy had infected me, making me feel a little like I might relish it if Sharon’s tears did fall. But underneath that, I really just wanted her gone. I was tired of the drama, the manipulation, the attempts to tear me down.

“Wes Robbins is way too damn good for your drunk, messy ass,” Roman piped in, agreeing with Rachel. Joining the front lines of my army.

“Better than any of us,” Sawyer agreed. “And that’s why he gets to be happy now, without you and your cheap-ass highlights.”

“Nice one, Sawyer,” Rachel laughed, and Sawyer tucked her against his side, grinning. Sharon looked like she wanted to speak to a manager. Like she wanted to call her rich parents and have them somehow buy her place back in my life, or at least buy herself a win in this fight she’d started. But that wasn’t possible when she had me under her thumb, and it certainly wasn’t possible now. And I knew that she was fragile and shallow enough that it would only take one more blow to get her to leave for good.

Finally, I stepped around my friends, my girl, and faced my own demons.

“For the last fucking time, Sharon Gertrude Farley,” I said, my voice low enough that Rachel’s laugh at hearing Sharon’s middle name almost could have drowned me out, “I want you out of my life. We’re done, and there’s no point in you ever trying to get back in my life. Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. And don’t you dare ever speak to my mother again.”

The rush of having told her off, of knowing in my bones that Sharon was finally no longer a problem in my life, had me practically blacking out. I didn’t notice the look on her face or if she left with any parting words. All I knew was that she was gone, and that three of the most important people in my life had proven themselves as my true allies. I also knew as we left all together, a united front, that I’d won, really won for the first time ever. Rachel, this relationship, this whole arrangement with her and the guys—it was my prize. And it felt far greater than any hockey victory.