“I am.”
“And what—how do we do it? Do we just take turns? Schedule our time with her? You get Mondays, I get Thursdays?” The sarcasm evident in my voice.
“No schedules,” she says. “No rules. Just… trust. Communication. And boundaries. She lives with me, so that’s an issue we’ll have to discuss together, the three of us. Because I know you want her living with you as well. ”
I let out a bitter laugh and turn my head toward the hallway, letting everything sink in.
“I hate this,” I mutter.
“You’re not the only one. But this is the only way to make everyone happy. So it’s play nice together or be alone and bitchy.”
“I’ve loved her for so long,” I say softly. “Her not being in my life isn’t an option.”
“It isn’t for me either,” she says.
A long silence stretches between us. I want to be selfish and tell this bitch to fuck off. Felicity is mine. She has been since the first moment I laid eyes on her.
I love her with my whole heart. I’d do anything for her. But this, sharing her, it’s a lot.
“And you really think she’d go for this?” I ask. “Us—sharing her?”
“Yeah, I think she would,” she admits. “But if we don’t ask. We don’t give her the option, then we’ll lose her either way. We are adults and I have all the confidence in the world we can move past our jealousy and work together. Be friends even.”
I close my eyes, nodding slowly. “God, she’s going to hate us for this.”
I clench my fist as I count to ten silently.
“Fine, then I guess we should take this time to get to know each other. Become friends,” I laugh.
“Hi Ezra, I’m Roxy. Felicity’s roommate, co-worker, stepsister and the woman in love with her.”
Chapter 29
Felicity
Mywholebodyaches.It even hurts with just thinking.
This isn’t right.
Consciousness slowly creeps its way back into my body.
A dull ache throbs behind my eyes, my mouth is dry as dust. The air smells different—yet somehow familiar, like I’ve been here before. Ezra’s woodsy cologne and Roxy’s lavender body spray consume me. Almost as if they’re here. Wherever I am. I try to move but my head feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton, my thoughts drifting sluggishly out of reach.
My eyes slowly open as I try to focus on where I am. I blink. Once. Twice. The ceiling above me is unfamiliar—the wood in the rafters gives off an unfinished look. As if I’m in a room that’s waiting for someone to love it enough to come and finish it. My eyes become heavy and I have to close them, just long enough to build up the energy to open them again.
Panic stirs low in my gut.
Where am I? Who took me? Why?
My limbs are slow to obey, heavy as stone. I try to sit up, but my body protests with every movement. My eyes closing as Ipress them together in agony, trying to push out the pain. My pulse quickens. I don’t know where I am or remember getting here. The last thing I remember is—what? Leaving to see Ezra. Then a hand. The sweet smell as the cloth pressed way too tightly to my face. Then, nothing.
Darkness.
How long has it been? Hours? Days? It can’t have been minutes. At least I don’t think so.
I muster up all the energy I have and push myself upright, the room tilts as a wave of nausea rolls over me. I steady myself with a trembling hand against the mattress.
And then—I see them.
