My hackles rise. “What kind of shit?”
He tugs open a drawer and snags a massive knife. Turning slightly, he faces me and Sully, a creepily blank expression on his face. “We don’t need to worry about Alexander finding her.”
“Because…” Sully trails off, eyeing the knife warily.
“Because I’m going to fucking kill him if I ever see him.” He turns back to cooking as though he didn’t just threaten to murder their father.
What the hell did she say to him?
Chapter Five
Landry
His mouth is hot on my skin. On my neck. My ear. The curve of my shoulder. The scruff on his face scratches my soft flesh, making it burn. I don’t want to be here. This isn’t right. It’s easier to disappear inside my head, pretending we’re not doing things like this. Every time I retreat, he brings me back with whispered words and scorching kisses that feel wrong for so many reasons.
“Such a good, good girl.”
I wake with a start, my heart hammering in my chest. Tears sting my eyes and I can’t stop the full-bodied shudder that makes its way down my spine from the base of my skull to my sore tailbone.
Relief floods through me, momentarily, as I realize it was a nightmare. He’s not here. I’m alone in bed.
The relief is no longer a rushing waterfall, but it turns thick and sludgy like tar. I’m alone in Scout’s bed. One of three triplets who, up until last night, I believed were the same person—the guy I really liked.
Irritation chases away the disgusting remnants of my dream. I can’t afford to be terrified anymore. Sure, Scout is scary sometimes, but he’s not unreasonable. Last night, we slept together and he didn’t hurt me or try anything. This is good. It gives me hope. Like maybe, just maybe, I won’t be their prisoner forever.
I just need to see Della.
To hug her and regroup.
Then, I’ll make a plan to get one of these triplets to turn us loose.
But my head start will be long gone. Dad will know we’ve run away and will be turning this city inside out to find us.
Defeat fills me to the very brim of my soul. I want to drag the blanket back over my head and go back to sleep. Pretend this isn’t my life. Inhale the admittedly good scent Scout leaves behind on his sheets.
“You okay?”
The voice is just like Scout’s, but it has a smoothness to it Scout’s lacks. Sparrow. I recognize the soft purring sound from when he murmured sweet things while we had sex in his car. Goose bumps scatter over my arms.
I don’t want to see him.
To stare into the face that watched me last night as I was dragged away. Sure, he may have tried to beat the door down, after the fact, but he let him take me away. It’s not all Sparrow’s fault but fixating on being angry with him helps ground me.
Was anything we shared real? Or was I just someone to conquer and fuck with? A job. My chest aches and I have to chew on my lip to keep from crying. His stare bores into me but I refuse to look at him, confirming it’s Sparrow.
“Laundry.” His voice has a hopeful lilt to it, like saying his nickname for me will somehow forgive him completely.
It doesn’t.
Ignoring him, I slide out of the bed, dragging the sheet with me. The last thing I’m going to allow is for him to see me naked. I’m sure he’s imagining all sorts of stuff he thinks Scout and I did. Good. I hope it hurts him. I hope it makes him feel like he’s been abandoned—like what we did meant nothing.
Because, now that I know the facts, it meant nothing to me, too.
Forgettable.
“Della?” I ask, hating that I have to speak to him. I still refuse to make eye contact. “Where is she?”
He sighs heavily, like my frostiness is irritating to him. “Kitchen. We should talk—”
“Get out so I can dress,” I snap. “Unless I’ve lost that right, too.”
Sparrow remains, an unmovable statue, and for a minute, I think he won’t leave. Finally, he storms off.
My backpack I brought with me, filled with our barest essentials, having been brought into the room by someone, sits on an armchair in the corner of the room. I unzip it, finding the picture of Mom stuffed between a pair of jeans and Della’s pajamas. Pulling it out, I try not to let the emotions overwhelm me.
She’s gone.
Mom was everything to me—to my sister.
Sometimes, the hurt of losing her is such a gut punch, hitting me out of nowhere and debilitating me. Sucking in deep breaths, I blink back my tears of despair and frustration. I’m not going to cry today. I’m done being pitiful. Della needs me to be strong.
I stare at Mom’s beautiful smile, press a kiss to it, and then push it into the backpack for safekeeping.