I don’t know what this is, or what it means, but I sense things changing, and that scares the crap out of me. If I’m completely honest, I sense things changing with both Cruz and Carver as well, and I’m terrified that if they were to realize just how far I’ve been allowing it to go, I’m going to lose every single one of them.
Maybe Grayson was right. I need to choose just one, but I don’t want to. They all offer me something so different.
King has never been so open about his feelings toward me. He’s always kept them under wraps because I needed him to. I needed it to be just sex without the emotion. His body was an escape just as I felt that mine was for him.
Why did he have to choose now to start making things complicated? But then, maybe it doesn’t need to be complicated at all. Maybe it’ll be as easy as they come and I’m only overthinking things because fear is holding me back.
Fuck. Why am I even thinking about this now? I just killed a man. Killed.
I rest back into my seat, my hair still dripping wet, but the heat is finally starting to do its thing and really beginning to warm me, though it’s nothing compared to what a hot shower and a bed could do for me. I bring my cold hands up to my mouth and blow hot air into them, trying to breathe a little life back into me when something occurs to me.
I turn and look at King driving in the darkness, his face barely visible in the moonlight. “How did you know where to find me?” I ask, my voice coming out as barely a whisper.
King glances at me with a strange hesitation in his eyes. His lips press into a hard line before he focuses back on the road. Just when I think he’s not about to tell me, he lets out a soft sigh, keeping his stare heavily focused at the road in front of him. “There’s a tracker on your bike. We were able to find you the second we realized you were gone. We just had to wait for you to stop so we could come and get you.”
My mouth drops but not a word comes out. I just simply nod, not surprised by his admission at all. In fact, I should have figured it out myself.
When I left school this afternoon, the boys didn’t come racing after me, and they sure as hell weren’t surprised when they found me making my way through Carver’s house. They knew exactly where I was the second I left the school. When I was hiding in the bushes outside Carver’s gate, they knew, and when the front door was left open making it possible to sneak in, it was done on purpose.
How could I have been so blind to that? I should be hating on them, raging that they dared take away my privacy, but I can’t. I can’t find it within me to hate them, not even Grayson. Perhaps after coming straight from Kurt’s place, hating on the guys for something so minimal, something they did just to keep me safe, seems so petty. I should be grateful that I have four amazing guys in my life who so fearlessly watch over me. Besides, I’m Dynasty property now, it only makes sense for them to want to keep track of me.
Instead of getting upset and having a tantrum like I usually do, I simply just stare out the window, watching as the city lights slowly morph into suburban streets.
I feel King’s stare on me the whole way back to Carver’s place, and by the time we come to a stop outside the impressive mansion, I find Cruz standing at the bottom of the stairs, patiently waiting to help get me inside. The concern in his eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
He walks around to my door to help me out as King comes out of the other side. They fuss over me as though I’m crippled and I instantly push them away. I don’t deserve to have them caring for me like this, not after what I’ve done.
I make my way up the stairs with the guys on either side of me, and as I push through the massive front door, I find both Carver and Grayson standing in the foyer, patiently waiting.
King and Cruz come in behind me, and as soon as the door closes with a soft thud, Carver tilts his head, jerking it to the side and turning away in a silent gesture for us to follow him.
“Do we have to do this now?” Cruz asks, his voice echoing through the foyer and bringing Carver to a stop. “She’s fucking soaked. Can we just get her dry and cleaned up before you hit her with an interrogation?”