Two. More. Hours.
Until then, I’m alone. Trapped between these four walls.
Waiting. Hiding.
Maybe I’ll turn the music back on.
Rolling on my back, I restart my playlist. But even my favorite songs aren’t soothing my nerves. My body buzzes. Itches. Demands release. Normally, sex takes the edge off when I’m like this, but Sebastian probably wouldn’t appreciate me fucking myself in his bed. Then again, he could be into it. He stuck around to watch last time.
I gnaw on my thumbnail.
The poster of a country singer directly across from me is kind of freaking me out. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. He’s definitely judging me. With his ugly goatee, chewing a piece of straw. Bastard has probably watched Sebastian getoff a hundred times. Probably wants to see me naked, too. Creep.
I give him the finger.
But something right below him, draped over the back of the desk chair, catches my eye. A devious grin tugs at my lips. I know exactly how I’m going to pass the time until my stepbrother gets home.
Thirty-Six
SEBA
Pastor Sinclair clapsa hand on my shoulder, champagne flute raised high in the other. “Our Lord has a bright future in store for this young man. A bright future. A future not only as a leader in this congregation, but as a commander of His Word. A commander in a holy war against the corruption of our children! And to that, I say AMEN!”
A chorus of “Amens” reverberates off the vaulted ceilings.
There are way too many eyes on me. My face hurts from holding a smile. My shirt collar is cutting into my neck. Or maybe it’s the tie. Sweat dampens my pits beneath the suit jacket I borrowed from Whitley. It’s too tight across my shoulders and too short in the sleeves.
I don’t belong here, surrounded by people in custom designer, sipping expensive champagne as they casually spend tens of thousands of dollars at a gala. I belong at home, taking care of Cade.
Cade. Cade. Cade.
My fingers drum the phone in my pocket. He hasn’t texted me as I asked. I’ve checked about five hundred times. Mom and Declan won’t be back until tomorrow night, meaning he’s all alone in that house. It’s giving me heartburn. With every minutethat passes, my mind conjures worst-case scenario after worst-case scenario. I should’ve skipped this shit and stayed with him.
I almost did. He looked so peaceful, wrapped in my sheets, still wearing my hoodie. I wanted to crawl back in bed and haul him against me. Feel each of his slow inhales and exhales. Know that he’s safe and calm in my arms. Maybe touch him…
A wave of powerful, complicated emotions crashes over me. This morning shouldn’t have felt so good. So effortless. So intimate. But it did and I don’t know what to do about it. There’s only one other person I’ve connected with like that and instead of holding her close, I ran. Which I regret. Deeply. Just the thought of Andrea sucks me into a black hole of longing. Even now, after spending last night in bed with Cade, I can’t help but scan the crowd for her.
There’s something seriously wrong with me.
Sinclair pats my back as the applause winds down.
“This is just the beginning.” He grins at the crowd.
I do my best to mimic him, but I’m hopelessly distracted and already mapping out an escape to the restroom.
Until my gaze snags on a brunette in a black gown.
Dear God.
Chocolate waves brush her exposed shoulders, the high neck of her dress accentuating her elegant throat. Silk drapes off her dainty curves, shimmering like oil. The second her dark eyes spot me, they narrow into slits.
Shit.
Andrea Sinclair is as furious as she is gorgeous.
She storms at me like an angry goddess, her red lips curled in a snarl. When she reaches me, she doesn’t stop. She grips my sleeve and drags me through a set of tinted glass doors into the hot summer night.
Then whacks my chest with a beaded purse. “Ow!”
