Page 47

She stares at me for a moment longer, as if in question. “Okay,” she says, obviously skeptical. “I’m gonna go shower real quick to wash off the smell of the murder warehouse.”

I nod, trying really hard not to imagine her in the shower as she heads up her staircase. Once she rounds the top, I resume my fruitless attempt to get comfortable. As soon as I think I might have managed a relaxed position, I hear the familiar jingle of Nyx’s collar. Two seconds later, she lands right in my lap, startling me.

“Shit,” I say, flinching beneath the cat while she turns in several small circles.

I watch as she makes herself comfortable with little to no effort and lies down in a curled- up ball right in the center of my lap. Tilting my head, I narrow my eyes at the peculiar thing.

“You aren’t going to go all psycho kitty on me, are you?” I ask.

Nyx lifts her head slowly to look at me, making that little chirp sound once and then resting her chin back on top of her paws. She begins to purr, and I can only assume that means she’s comfortable here.

I sigh, staring down at the little fluffy thing. I reluctantly reach out a hand and softly stroke her fur. She begins to purr louder, and I can only assume that means she likes it. I guess I can admit to myself that she is sort of cute, although I’d never admit that thought out loud.

“Well, well.” I snap my head up to the sound of Lydia’s voice.

She’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister. I wonder how long she’s been watching me. My eyes trail down her figure, taking in the silk pajama set with little Halloween cats printed all over it. I cock a brow at her out-of-season clothing choice. The shorts frame her hips and ride high up her thighs in a way that makes me want to peel them off slowly, and I try my best not to stare. Snapping out of my reckless thoughts, I pull my hand away from the cat and assume a posture that doesn’t make me look like I’m even remotely enjoying this.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re warming up to my cat, sunshine,” she says, smirking.

Fuck, she’s so damn bratty, and I hate how much I fucking love it. It makes me curious to know how bratty she’d be with a ball gag in her mouth.

“Who, me? Never,” I scoff, feigning ignorance. “The cat jumped up here and held me hostage. What was I supposed to do? Move it?”

I internally cringe at how fucking stupid I sound. Why can’t I admit that I think I’m warming up to the little thing, maybe just a little bit?

“Mhm,” she hums, not convinced.

Nyx lifts her head and looks up toward Lydia for only a moment before resting again. I clench my jaw, wondering why it’s decided to make my lap a goddamn bed when its mother is right there.

My gaze follows Lydia as she heads for a record player on a bookshelf near the back of the room. She grabs a record and places it on the turntable, lowering the tonearm. Music filters into the space around us, each note easing the anxiety brewing inside of me.

Music is always the one thing that suffocates the demons. It’s the whole reason the guys and I started Reverb. Each one of us hauls the past around as if dropping it would somehow be harder than holding on for dear life. The music allows me to set down the weight for a while. It reaches the places inside of me that nothing else can touch, quieting the damage before it can swallow me whole.

I hadn’t realized that the frequencies were somehow enhancing the healing process, and without them, it feels like the cracks are expanding once again. The lyrics of the song wrap around me, conveying every emotion I can’t contain. The words are so beautiful, so fractured, so raw. It feels like stumbling headfirst into something sacred after nearly losing it all. It feels … right.

“Do you like it?” I hear Lydia’s voice from behind me, and it brings me back to the present.

I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling this entire time. Clearing my throat on a cough, I rearrange my face to its usual state of indifference. I don’t know why I continue to hide from her, and the thought of it fucking hurts. She deserves so much better than this. She deserves so much better than me.

“Yeah, I do,” I say, watching as she walks around the sofa and takes a seat right next to me. “What song is this?”

My eyes flick down as her leg brushes against mine. She sits cross-legged facing me, elbows braced on her knees, her face cradled in her hands. She glances down at Nyx in my lap, staring longingly at both of us.

I instantly imagine a child there, our child. I don’t know why that’s the thought that hits me. Is there a future where that scenario would actually be possible? Do I even want children? Does Lydia even want children?

“It’s ‘Shelter’ by Sleep Token,” she says, answering my question and derailing my hopelessly imaginative future of our unborn children. Shit, now I’m thinking about it again. They’d be damn cute, I know it.

Fuck, no. Stop it, Callum.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, honestly.

It’s probably the first real thought I’ve voiced since knowing her, and that makes me want to dismember myself. I want to be better for her, but I honestly don’t know if that’s possible.

“Yeah?” she asks, eyes wide with wonder. “You really think so?”

“Mhm,” I say, abandoning all logic. “You know what else I think?” She perks up, eager to hear my thoughts. “I think that I’m having a really hard time staring at you in that ridiculous pajama set,” I say, cocking a brow.

Her eyes widen as they drift down to my mouth for a brief moment. “What, you don’t like cats, or Halloween?” she asks, running her hands over her top for dramatic effect.