“Why are you always so mean to me?” he whines. “Anyway, Rutherford—”
I don’t hear the rest.
There’s a roaring in my ears, like the world is being vacuum-sealed around me. Ryan will never let me be. He’s going to ruin Caspian’s privacy, his peace, and any chance I have of existing in that house without fear.
“Antonio?” Ann-Sabrina’s voice comes from very far away. “Are you okay?”
I try to drag air into my lungs.
“Shit,” she mutters. “Should I call Caspian ?”
“Tell him about Rutherford while you’re at it,” Steve adds, his voice fading in and out like a bad radio signal.
“If you don’t shut up right now, Steve Pell, I will personally convince Mickey to remove Bon Jovi from the karaoke list. Permanently.”
“If you hadn’t repeatedly told me not to, I’d be asking if you’re on your period,” Steve comments.
“Steve.”
Her tone is a death sentence.
“Go to the Beans and check if there’s someone there with actual sense in their head. Now.”
“Doesn’t seem likely,” Steve mutters, retreating. “But I guess I’ll check.”
I need to get a grip.
I can’t let Caspian return to another disaster.
Everyone will talk. Everyone must already pity him.
They’ll tell him he deserves better—and it’s true.
It’s a truth universally acknowledged or at least a known fact in Baywood.
Maybe he isn’t back yet because he has finally realized what loving me costs.
Here’s your boyfriend Antonio—please find his stalker attached.
I make Caspian’s life miserable. If I’m not going mental in the middle of the street, I’m hiding under the blanket and accidentally ghosting him. I bite him without permission. Wake him up in the middle of the night to interrogate him about his subconscious.
It’s no wonder he hasn’t come back.
I lift my head slowly.
I’m in a bookstore. I should buy a pen and a notebook and make a list. Lists are what rational people do.
I’m going to write down all the ways I’ve complicated his life.
The door opens.
Steve reappears, looking uncharacteristically cowed. He’s followed by Cole’s boyfriend.
“He was the only option,” Steve says, eyeing Xaden warily. “Don’t worry, Antonio. I’ll—I’ll keep him in check.”
His throat bobs visibly.
“Special Agent Bailey,” I mumble, feeling shy. “I’m fine.”
