Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Wyn

I’m relieved when Gabriel doesn’t contact me for the rest of the night. I’m sure he’s busy being celebrated—which is great, but if I’m being honest, I’m just happy to have a second to process what happened today.

Lux called to check in on me, and so did Alexis. I assured both of them that I’m okay. But the truth is, I’m far from okay—and selfishly, it has very little to do with Gabriel. Something is happening between Lucas and me, and that’s all I can think about. He’s a contradiction of emotions that confuses the fuck out of me. One minute, he’s clawing at me, desperate to fuck, and the next, he’s beating the shit out of my poor wall. What the fuck am I supposed to make of that?

Pulling sweats and a sweatshirt out of my dresser, I shake my head. I shouldn’t give a fuck about Lucas. The things he’s done are unforgivable—stalking me, breaking in, fucking me under the cover of darkness, drugging me, forcing me to be his consort…the list just goes on and on. If the word “toxic” ever took human form, it would look exactly like Lucas West.

And yet…

“ Ugh! ” I don’t even allow myself to finish that thought. “Lucas West is not good for you, Wyn. Fuck his pretty face and his parade of narcissistic red flags. Fuck. Him. ”

To aid in my brand-new resolve to not think about Lucas, I take a CBD gummy before bed. It takes about thirty minutes to kick in, and the second it does, I drift off watching an old Dateline episode.

When I wake up, it’s mid-morning—I can tell by the way the sun filters in through the windows. Shit. I sit up abruptly and grab my phone. I must have forgotten to set my alarm.

I have three missed calls from Gabriel and one text.

Morning, Pretty Thing. Had a late night at Mom’s. Pick you up later for the thing at Rush House?

The thing at Rush House…? I blink and try to remember. Finally, it comes to me. He’s referring to the welcome-back party that Lux told me about.

I don’t text him back immediately, because I’m not ready to deal with him just yet. Instead, I get up and get the coffee started, then head to the bathroom to do my morning stuff. As I pull my medicine cabinet open, I spot a razor blade sitting on one of the glass shelves.

Without even really thinking, I pick it up and clean it with alcohol, then pull my sweater sleeve up, and pull the sharp blade across my inner arm, just below my elbow. The sting is intensified by the alcohol, and I suck in a quick, relieved breath. All the tension immediately drains from my body, and I tilt my head back as the warmth of pain washes over me.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on my door. Actually, knock is being polite. Someone is pounding on my door.

Reluctantly, I put the blade back in the cabinet, put a small bandage over the new cut, smooth my sweatshirt sleeve down, and then walk over to the door. I squint into the peephole. Could it be Lucas? He still has my key, and something tells me if he wanted to come in, he’d just use that. He wouldn’t fuck around with knocking.

“Wyn, open up.”

It’s Gabriel.

Sliding the chain lock off, I open the door. I don’t even have it fully open before Gabriel pushes past me. He walks into the middle of my studio and then turns on me.

“Why the fuck haven’t you been answering your phone?” His tone is more than angry. He’s furious.

I shut my door and blink at him. “I was sleeping.”

He glances around and notices my steaming cup of coffee on the kitchen counter. Then he looks back at me. “Oh, really? You could make coffee, but you couldn’t fucking text me, Wyn? It takes two seconds.”

Holy shit. I don’t know if I’m awake enough for this.

“I’m…sorry,” I say, walking over to my coffeemaker. I pour myself a cup, and it smells heavenly. And it’s the expensive stuff that I got from Rush House the other day, so after pouring in my creamer, I savor that first, blissful sip.

“Are you, though?” he says, taking a menacing step toward me. “You know, you‘re not even acting like you’re happy I’m back. Everyone else is celebrating me, and you…” He motions to me. “...you can’t even fucking text me back. What does that say?”

I set my mug down. “I’m sorry,” I say again, hoping he’ll accept it this time. “I took a gummy last night, and I didn’t wake up until just a few minutes ago…”

I hate having to justify myself to him. I hate it. I’m a grown-ass woman, and if I want to make coffee before texting someone back, I should have the freedom to do that without having to explain myself.

He blinks at me, still angry, but I can see his features soften a little. “I was worried about you,” he says.

No, he wasn’t. I know that’s not why he’s angry. He’s angry because I’m not giving him the attention he wants and expects, but of course, he can’t say that. Maybe that’s a cynical way to look at this, but I know how his brain works. I was his girlfriend for one very long, tumultuous year.

I push out a breath, and glance down, before looking back up and flashing him a smile. “What’s happening today?” I ask, hoping to distract him from his anger.

“I have a meeting with the Undergraduate Dean to talk about re-enrolling in classes, and then my cousin, Daniel, wants to meet for lunch,” he says.

Sounds like he has a full plate this morning. Thank God. That gives me the freedom to get back into my own routine.

“Ah, okay,” I say, picking up my mug again, and taking a big gulp of my vanilla-flavored coffee.

He glances at his phone. “If you get dressed now, we won’t be late.”

Uh. “Late for what?”

The anger returns to his face. “My meeting with the Undergraduate Dean, Wyn. Are you fucking stupid? Didn’t you just hear me say that?”

I should be taken aback by his insult, but it’s so typical for him that it rolls right off me, and I know enough not to challenge him, so I bite my tongue. “The Dean isn’t going to want me there…” I point out.

He narrows his eyes and takes another step toward me. “Or you don’t want to be there. Maybe that’s the real issue.”

Dear God. I can’t fucking win with him, and honestly, I don’t care about any of this enough to argue. Pushing out a breath, I lift my hands. “Just let me put something on.”

That seems to placate him. He nods and takes a step back, allowing me to push past him so I can grab something out of my closet. I pull out the first thing I see—a longish flowery sundress—and head to the bathroom with it.

He sits on my bed and starts scrolling on his phone. Thank God for that, because I half expected him to make an issue of me retreating to the bathroom to change, instead of feeling comfortable enough to do it in front of him.

When I emerge from the bathroom five minutes later, my hair is brushed, but I have no makeup on. No time for that.

He gets up, and we head out. He leads me out to his car—I guess his mom kept it—and we drive in silence to ExU. His meeting with the Undergraduate Dean takes over an hour, and as I expected, I’m forced to wait in the waiting room.

But lunch with his cousin is ten times worse, because who shows up to tag along? Lucas, Christian, and a couple of other guys. It’s my own personal hell. I’m trapped at a sausage party with Lucas literally staring at me the entire time—for all three hours—his gaze often falling to the bandage on my arm.

To pass the time, I imagine all the ways I could murder Lucas and get away with it. Drowning? Stabbing? Lure him onto the edge of a cliff, then shove him over? That one is my favorite, because I imagine seeing the brief flicker of realization in his eyes as he reaches out for me, then drops abruptly out of view…

When the lunch is finally over, we all stand up, and Gabriel slides his arm around my shoulders, acknowledging me for the first time. “Well, guys, I need to get my lady home, so we can get in some alone time before the party tonight…”

Oh, shit. I knew it was coming–Gabriel wanting to have sex with me—but I hadn’t quite worked out how I was going to avoid it.

In a panic, my gaze flicks to Lucas. He’s visibly tense, his jaw clenched, a tic pulsing in his cheek. He’s looking at Gabriel like he could murder him right here, on the spot, in front of everyone.

I laugh uncomfortably. “Actually, I’m, uh, going to Rush House to help set up for the party.”

I just came up with that on the fly. There is no setup required for an impromptu party like we’re having tonight. Usually, a couple of the guys just haul a shit-ton of booze in from the garage, and someone else orders pizza. A text goes out to everyone, telling them to pop up, and that’s about it.

His gaze flicks over me suspiciously, and I can already tell he’s going to punish me later for not mentioning this before. But he wants to appear chill in front of his boys, so he forces a smile. “Yeah, cool. I guess I can head over to the surf shop, to say hi to the guys there. I told them I’d stop by.”

With a stiff nod, I smile back, shocked that a guy with amnesia remembers so many damn people. “Sounds good,” I say. My gaze slides past Lucas to Christan, who is standing beside him. “Christian, are you headed back to Rush House, by chance? Mind if I hitch a ride?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says easily. “Let’s go.”

I don’t even look at Lucas as I follow Christan to his car. He opens the door for me, and I slide in, pulling the door closed. During that split second that I’m alone in Christian’s car, I lean against the headrest and push out a relieved breath—just enjoying the moment of silence.

Christian takes a second to say goodbye to the others, then gets in, and starts the engine. I deliberately avoid looking at him, because he has Lucas’ fucking face–and I just can’t take it right now.

As we take off toward Rush House, I see Christian glance at me from the corner of my eye. “You good?”

I swallow. “Don’t I look like I’m good?”

“No, actually. That’s why I’m asking.”

I just shake my head as I look out the window, watching the green hills pass us by. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, it’s clear you didn’t want to go back to your place with Gabriel.”

I glance at him abruptly, surprised that he picked up on that. I suspected Gabriel would, but he picks up on everything—even shit that’s imaginary. I didn’t realize my avoiding him was so obvious to everyone else. “Why do you say that?”

He flashes me a smile. Ugh, he’s so pretty. Fucking hell. “We both know there’s no prep needed for an unofficial society party.”

I blow out a breath and tilt my head back against the headrest. “That’s the only thing I could come up with on the spot.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Fuck, if you know I was lying, then Gabriel definitely knows, and he’ll be pissed once he gets me alone.”

Honestly, I don’t know how long I can do this with Gabriel. I’ll have to break up with him all over again, which is going to look really shitty when he’s only been home for one day.

We’re stopped at a red light, and Christian has his arm slung over the steering wheel when he turns his head to look at me. “Look, why don’t we stop by the party supply place, and pick up some ‘welcome home’ shit? We can put it up, and boom , there you go. Your little lie isn’t a lie anymore.”

I slide a glance at him. “Why are you helping me?”

It’s not that I ever got the feeling that Christian hated me or anything. He was always just kinda…neutral. Like, he didn’t think about me one way or another. So why step in and help me now?

The light turns green, and he turns his attention back to the road. “Listen, I know there’s something going on with you and my brother. He’s a shit liar, and when he made you his consort the other night, it pretty much confirmed my suspicions.”

“Which are?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “He’s into you.”

I shake my head at that, thinking back to last night. The way he demanded I suck him off, then got angry and left. “That might be true,” I concede. “But he hates himself for it.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Just promise me something…”

“What?”

“He’s going to try pushing you away.” Christian glances at me. “Don’t let him.”

Lucas is such a force, I don’t know if I could stop him from doing anything. And yet, I find myself nodding, anyway….