For letting my mouth run away from me as far as it could. I’d fucked up like I always did while speaking before thinking. “No, it isn’t! This has been happening since before we paired up.”Īnd, I’d fucked up. “You’re my business! So this is my business!” “I haven’t told you because it’s none of your business!” “I’m going to yell at you when you’ve been getting things like this! Why didn’t you tell me?”

If looks could kill, I would have been dead, for real. Ivan tipped his head back and made a noise I wasn’t really sure what it was called. I winced, trying to think of what to say and coming up with, “He hasn’t threatened me….” “You have a fucking stalker, Jasmine!” he yelled again, making me thankful that my mom and Ben were gone. Waving my hands, palms down, I tried to tell him in my softest voice, which probably wasn’t as soft as it needed to be, “Calm down.” I’d throw them away, but I wasn’t an idiot, if anything ever happened, I needed proof. I held back my sigh, seriously regretting that I’d taken my hiding places for granted and hadn’t shoved them into my underwear drawer… or somewhere else that was harder to find. I didn’t even think he was capable of being so mad unless he was on the ice and something had gone wrong during a competition. “Jasmine.” He started to get revved up all over again, the red on his face and neck climbing to the tips of his ears. If I’d found pictures of naked men with his face taped to the bodies, with hearts glued to them, with arrows pointed at his genitals, connected to words like YUM and YES, I might laugh for a minute… and then worry like hell.

I knew he wouldn’t drop this crap until I explained every detail. I didn’t even think I could try and play stupid and act like the notes I’d had hidden in my drawer were a joke-because my mom wouldn’t look through my things, we were past that stage in my life. In so much anger, I could almost taste it. He shook his head, the hand holding the papers dropping until his fist bumped against his thigh, his head cocked to the side in anger. “Who… who…?” he stuttered, another sign of how furious he was. Ivan ignored my question, crushing the sheets in his hand so tightly, they formed partial balls. But damn it! Those papers had been in there safely for years.

From lukov with love pages