Really?
Really.
Hmmm…
I don't respond, because what do I say to that?
His next text hits me like a fucking truck.
Prove it.
“Shit.” I shut my phone and shuffle up the chair to find Luce and Jord both staring at me. I flash them both a smile. “It's fine.”
Pushing up from the lounge, I make my way to the house before they do something like corner me further and all those damn cracks that Asher has put in my chest finally fracture and my heart spills out.
Dumping my things in the dirty laundry basket, I take in the bedroom. I can't sleep in here. Since Parker isn't going to be here for a while, I may as well just stay in the main bedroom, since it's my favorite bedroom.
I collect a bunch of clothes, makeup, shoes, and whatever else I might need, and haul ass back downstairs, cursing at the elevator when it once again tests my patience.
As soon as the doors slap shut behind me, I relax, banging my head against the wall a couple of times to force my thoughts down.No, you're not weak. No, you don't need an intervention. Yes, you do like him more than you thought. No, you're not thinking about love.
My eyes open, onto the room. The gondola, the pool table, the small bar, and TV, and the wall that hides the bedroom.
This is where I should have been all along. It's closer to hell.
***
“I'm nervous,” I say down the phone, chewing on my lip. “Am I losing my way?”
She's silent a moment, before her voice filters through like the morning sun after a stormy night. “No, Vanya. You're not. You don't need anyone to tell you anything. Deep down, you know the path.”
She says it like I already knew this. After showering, I decided to pick up the phone and call the one person who is far enough away from the situation to not have a bias.
“Where are you?” I ask, resting the phone on my shoulder as I fold the last piece of clothing I had. The sound of the elevator doors opening makes me pause for a moment, but I shrug it off, changing ears.
“On a job,” she says, and I hear the sound of the ocean crashing around her.
“Anyone we know?”
She laughs, and it's almost enough to make me smile. “No, unfortunately.”
I end the call and stare at my phone for a beat too long, trying to absorb her words.Deep down, you know the path.
Do I?
Shoving the phone in my pocket, I grab the few remaining items scattered across the bed and head for the elevator. The doors slide open with their usual groan, and I step inside, punching the button for the main floor.
The ride up feels longer than it should. My reflection stares back at me from the polished metal doors—oversized cardigan hanging off one shoulder, tiny sleep shorts barely visible beneath the hem, thigh-high socks bunched at my knees. I look like I rolled out of someone's bed.
Because I did.
The elevator dings. Doors part.
I step out into the main living area and freeze.
Four pairs of eyes snap to me.
Asher stands near the kitchen island, coffee mug halfway to his mouth. Atlas sprawls on the couch, remote in hand. Punk perches on the arm of the same couch, phone angled like she's mid-story. And Camille—perfect, polished Camille—stands beside Asher, one manicured hand resting on his forearm.
