“Ebony. EBONY.” Her panicked voice feels far away, as though she’s yelling at me through a long dark tunnel. The light flooding the room feels too bright as my chest tightens. Megan scrambles around, flustered as my eyes grow heavy, upending the box she brought in here and searching through the pile. The painting is the only thing filling my blurred vision now as I fall to my knees.
Seconds feel like minutes as Megan holds the paperbag over my mouth and nose. My head stuffy, my eyes heavy.
“Breathe,” she orders, and that tightness in my chest loosens with every deep inhale, the rattling of a receipt flying around inside.
I can’t remember the last time I had a panic attack; maybe it’s coming back to this town, starting fresh or the memory of them—whatever it is, I need to get a grip. Sure I’m not going to pass out, I pull the bag from my face. “Thanks,” I say dryly, embarrassment colouring my cheeks as I sway, collapsing back onto my bed.
“You good?” her concern weighs heavy between her brows as she pushes my hair back over my shoulder and rubs soothing circles into my back. “You’re no good to me dead, you know.” She laughs uneasily as though she’s said something she shouldn’t have.
I pull the receipt free, and a wide genuine smile breaks across my face. “The mountain man 3000, huh?” I cock a brow as I hold it up. “Ribbed for your pleasure; interesting find,” I tease.
She snatches it back and flattens it out. “It’s tax deductible.” She snorts, folding the receipt and sliding it into her back pocket.
It was on my third morning here that I found out Megan’s side hustle as an online cam girl. I saw sides of my roommate I never thought I would, let’s put it that way.
“I don’t think that’s how taxes work,” I chuckle, my lungs still working overtime to regulate my air supply.
“Even adult entertainers deserve a rebate; nipple clamps and butt plugs don’t grow on trees, you know.”
“Who knew the visual of a sex aid tree would calm me down?”
“Consider me your therapist, Ebs. Want to share?” She jabs playfully, but I can tell the sentiment is genuine.
The fact is I do want to share, desperately. But I know I won’t—the less she knows, the better. Pulling people into my web of fuckery only proves to destroy their lives, and my friendship with Megan, with all her quirks and brashness, is the closest thing to normal I’ve had since the boys were with me. I’m not ready to give her up.
“Dinners on me tonight. I’m thinking beers and pizza,” I say hoarsely as she makes her way to my door. My throat sore as I grind out the words.
“Sounds perfect.” She claps her hands together. “No more getting lost in bad thoughts, okay?” she adds, waiting for my nod of agreement before leaving and closing the door behind her.
I rest my forehead up against the wood. I can hear Megan’s soft voice humming along to whatever tune is playing out from the radio in the kitchen. I turn, sliding down the door, reaching over for my cold mocha latte. Sipping it, I ponder whether my blast of expression on the wall was a good idea; everything I’ve tried so hard to get past weighing so monumentally heavy on my tortured soul.
Forget about them, Ebony. They forgot about you.
CHAPTER SIX
EBONY
“Special delivery,” Mateo chimes in, sliding the clear container of strawberry drizzle shortcake across the table towards me. He slides into the seat opposite and pulls a squealing Megan into his lap. Caressing the tip of her nose with the petals of a wilting daisy.
“My way of saying sorry,” he adds kindly.
A flush of embarrassment creeps across my face, my eyes dipping down to his chest before I can stop my mind from wandering.
Kill me now.
“I’m not hungry,” I snap tiredly; he doesn’t deserve my ire, but my fuse is short today, and the probability of a meltdown is imminent.
I’m grateful when he doesn’t draw out his apology, and they start up a conversation without involving me. Leaving me to silently talk myself off the ledge before I call the daya loss and head back to my room to hibernate for the rest of the semester.
Being back here in Hells Haven, dreaming about the Knox brothers every night, thinking that every douchebag in a cowboy hat that flashes out of the corner of my eye might be them—it’s enough to send a woman loopy. I’m suffering with an unhealthy dose ofhaven’t-been-laid-properly-in-what-feels-like-a-lifetime,and I’m about ready to combust. Everything seems to remind me of them and the life I could be living.
“Megan said you loved the strawberries I left her, and flowers feel more like a date thing, so dessert it is.”Mateo smiles sheepishly at me, leaning into Megan as she strokes his hair affectionately.
Now I feel like a dick.
After being kept up most of the night as these two played hide the salami in Megan’s room, I dragged myself to the living room to bury my head under the sofa cushions—the two hours of sleep wasn’t ideal, more homeless sleep than beauty sleep if the shocking mess of my hair this morning was anything to go by. But needs must when it sounds like you’ve taken up residence next to a porn studio.
Megan told me they made content together, and while it doesn’t bother me what they get up to in their own time, I was looking into the most affordable sound-proofing options at four am. I didn’t expect to find a dripping wet shirtless Mateo wearing nothing but a smile and a towel as he exited my bathroom this morning. The visual is seared into my brain now as I glance across at him. They havetried so hard to include me with movie nights and dinners, I didn’t want things to be awkward between us.
