Broken Compass
“What is it?” I ask, more gently than I thought possible. I hate this conversation, and I can’t lie to save my life, so if he knows the truth… But he seems to be struggling with more than that.
“God, I shouldn’t even be here,” he breathes, looking down at me, and dark enters his icy-gray eyes. He scrambles off me, as if he just realized where he’s been sitting. “I should’ve left long ago.”
“What? You can’t.” When did this night take such a turn? “You can’t leave, Kash.”
“I stayed. I wasn’t supposed to, but I stayed for you, the three of you, and you won’t even... Shit. Tell me, man. Was that guy really your granddad?”
I grab onto his corded arms, keeping him there. Dammit, I have cold sweat running down my face. “Kash, please.”
“Here’s an idea,” another voice says, startling me, and it’s Nate, ambling toward us. “How about we talk about you, Kash? About how you’re not twenty-two but nineteen? How you’re running from someone and not telling us who? Who the hell are you?”
Sydney follows him out of his room, rubbing at her eyes. She stops beside Nate, who wraps an arm around her waist, and blinks owlishly at us. “Oh boy. You guys look hot like that.”
And she comes to join us on the sofa, pulling Nate behind her.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Nate
Not sure what got into me. Hell, I wanna know what Kash overheard and what’s up with West’s granddad, but walking in and finding them entwined like that…
It reminds me of West kissing me, it makes me want and crave and burn. It makes me wanna be part of it, like last night, try again even when I know I’ll run screaming the moment one of them makes a move on me and touches me first.
So I stand there like a fucking voyeur, remembering how West’s bare chest gleamed in the low light, powerful and damn hot, how his lips were parted, ready for the taking. How Kash looked sitting on top of him, muscular arms caging West in, and that angelic blond hair a halo just like the first time I ever saw him.
They look hot, like they’re about to kiss and fuck, and it shouldn’t turn me on, but hell, it does. So fucking much. Even though I prefer girls.
Even though I’m in love with Sydney.
I want her so bad it’s killing me. I want her between us, with us, keeping us together. It’s a crazy thing to want and hope for, but I just know one thing: last night was damn hot—and for the first time in years I slept through the night.
We all did, curled uncomfortably on my bed. We shouldn’t have been able to sleep a wink, with legs all tangled up, arms touching, bodies pressed together, Syd’s hair all over the place.
So what gives?
I’m still staring when Sydney slips from my hold, takes my hand and drags me toward the sofa, toward West and Kash, and it’s as if a weight is lifted off me.
“Make space for us, boys,” she says, all bossy-like, and I grin a little. She’s this small redheaded bundle of energy and raw sexiness, a force to reckon with.
I fucking love it.
Her. I love her. I’ve known it from the start, and still the knowledge hits me like a ton of bricks.
Kash climbs off West and drags his hand through his hair as Sydney tugs me to sit between the two of them.
“We need a bigger bed,” she mutters, “or at least a mattress on the floor, so we can’t fall off in the night.”
She’s already making plans involving us all, and I chuckle to myself. I’m seated next to Kash and he shoots me a wry grin.
“Like a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous,” he mutters.
“Is it? I wouldn’t know. More like Sydney’s Boys Club.”
West snickers.
Sydney puts her arms around us, kneeling on the couch where we’re all sprawled, long legs stretched out. “Oh shush. So did you want to talk or pick up where you guys left off?”
“We hadn’t even started,” West rumbles, and he makes it sound like they were getting it on.