THIRTY-EIGHT
CHARLOTTE
Ilie on my couch with my hair up in a messy bun, wearing nothing but a sweatshirt and cotton shorts while drinking wine from the bottle.
I’ve decided to drink my worries away. Haidyn has my laptop, and I don’t know when I’ll get it back. Thankfully, I’ve still got my Apple watch and the second cell phone that the Lords gave me. I haven’t received anything new so that’s a plus. They don’t contact me every day, so I have some time to figure things out.
It’s been a week since I stormed into his house, pulled a gun on him, and then went to Carnage. I used my anger for good use.
I pullthrough the gates and up to the dark castle. Getting out of the car, there’s a smile on my face. I’ve made peace with my decision, and I’m actually giddy about it.
The front double doors open, and I’m greeted by a man dressed in an all-black tux. “Miss Hewett,” he says, sounding surprised. “Haidyn isn’t?—”
“I know.” I interrupt Jessie. “I need to speak to Saint, please.”
“Miss Hewett?—”
“I need to speak to Saint.” I repeat. “Please. It’s important. It’s about Haidyn.”
“What about him?”
I look up to see Saint coming down the stairs. He’s got a pair of black sweatpants on and is in the process of pulling a T-shirt over his head. “I know where he is,” I rush out.
“Let’s talk privately,” Saint says, nodding toward the same room he took me into last time. Then I notice he looks over his shoulder as if to see if Ashtyn is following him and has overheard what I said.
Interesting.
Entering the room, he shuts the door behind me. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
I start to fan my face as if I’m worked up. I am, but not because I give a fuck about Haidyn. But I’m supposed to care, right? I’m supposed to be his therapist and want what’s best for him. Instead, I’m here to rat him out like a little snitch. Dropping my hand, I start to rub my hands together and whisper, “Patient-client…”
“Fuck that bullshit.” He hisses and demands, “Is he okay?”
This also tells me that Saint hasn’t heard from him. What about Kashton? Is Haidyn ignoring them both? If so, why? “I…I’m not sure. He seemed okay, but…” I sniff.
“But what?” He places his hand on my shoulder, and it takes everything in me not to step back.
None of them are overly friendly, but Saint seems to be the hothead out of the three since I’ve known them. But that could have been because of the story that revolves around his wife. “He called me, wanting a meeting. Said he needed to talk to someone.”
He nods. “Well, that’s a good thing, right?”
“He just seemed off…you know? He was upset and had been drinking…”
He runs a hand down his face, letting out a sigh. “Where is he?”
I hide my smile by biting my bottom lip and drop my eyes to the floor.
“It’s okay, Charlotte. You can tell me. Where is Haidyn?”
I keptmy concern vague because I didn’t want to tell him anything specific. I wanted Saint worried enough to go to Haidyn. And by how fast Saint rushed out of Carnage, I’d say it worked.
I wanted Haidyn to be caught off guard when he saw Saint on his front porch. He’ll know it was me, of course, but I don’t give a fuck.
Taking another gulp of wine, I relax into the couch, getting comfortable. I’ve kept my real cell phone off and my one from the Lords on silent because I’m still out of town, according to my social media pages. Wesley gets a text every now and then to update him on my trip, and I send my mother a picture that I have to make on Photoshop with the addedmy service is spottytext. But other than that, I’m MIA, and it’s actually been nice. I’m still on the fence about what to do about my fake friends knowing I’m dating Haidyn. I fucking lied about being broken up with Wesley. The only thing about that is they are my friends, not his. I had them before we started our fake relationship.
My door opening has me sitting up and my hand tightening on the neck of the wine bottle.
Haidyn steps into my house, and I roll my eyes, lying back down. “Don’t you ever knock?”
