by Tijan
Corrigan and Bryce were the only ones I cared about.
As it was, I didn’t have to wait that long. Corrigan texted me a few minutes later: Home soon. B needed to answer some questions the police had. Don’t know what’s going on, but it was about Guadalupe.
“Was that Corrigan?” Denton must’ve heard my phone beep.
“Yeah.” I headed back up the stairs now. “They’re heading home now.”
He yawned, rubbing a hand over his face. His makeup smeared. “That was fast. The cops literally just left.”
“Yeah.” I frowned, but we’d have answers soon. Offering a hand to him, I helped him up and we went inside. “Where’s Mena?”
“She said she was tired. I’m sure she’ll be in her room all night now.”
He went to the refrigerator, and when he pulled out two bottles of water, I smiled in thanks and took a seat at the table. He sat across from me. “Man,” he said. “I’m tired. I need to go back to work. Too much stress trying to find your killer, traipsing around in ball gowns.”
I grinned. “I thought this would be second nature to you, Mr. I’m-in-Movies.”
He laughed shortly. “Nah. The hours are fine. Even dressing up and pretending to be a fraternity brother who’s pretending to be a girl is fine. It’s the stress about what could happen to you, now being worried about Bryce and Corrigan, too.”
Denton was concerned about them too. I frowned to myself. That thought had never occurred to me, but I didn’t know why it hadn’t. It wasn’t a surprise.
“What?”
He had noticed my look. “You care about them, too.”
He nodded. “They’re good guys. I do. I’m firmly in the friend-zone, so yeah, I feel like I’m actually friends with all of you guys, not just you.”
“Thank you, Denton.”
“For what?”
I gestured around the room. “For this, sheltering us.” For caring about my family, too. “Thanks for everything.”
He gave me a half-grin. “Aw, Sheldon. You’re such a softie inside.”
I scowled and gave him the middle finger.
“See.” He pointed at my hand. “Even that’s with love. I can tell.”
“Shut up.” I laughed.
“Listen, I’m all for staying up and making sure the guys are fine, but,” a yawn escaped him, “I don’t think I’m going to make it.”
“Pussy.”
“I’ll take it.” He grinned. “Come on, Sheldon. Tonight’s been a long night. Go to bed. The guys will be fine. They’ll be here in the morning.” He pointed to my phone. “Corrigan texted you. You know they’re fine.”
“Yeah, maybe.” If I were in bed, I wouldn’t be here when they both walked in; I wouldn’t feel the urge to wrap my arms around both of them, never wanting to leave them again. Then I shook my head. What the hell was going on with me? I grinned, laughing at myself. I was becoming a sentimental fool. Denton was right. Bed was the right place to go. They’d be there in the morning, no awkward middle-of-the-night hugs to be had.
“Okay.” I stood up.
Denton lifted an eyebrow. “That was easier than I thought.”
“Yeah, well, you’re right. I should get some sleep. Tomorrow . . .” Tomorrow would be another day spent trying to figure out what the hell I could do. “’Night, Denton.”
“’Night, Sheldon.”
I left for my room alone. He went to the refrigerator for something. If I was going to avoid the late-night awkwardness, I had to go now. If I waited to walk with Denton, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go. I’d wait at that table the whole night, if I needed to, but when I got to my room and after getting ready for bed and crawling under the bed sheets, it didn’t matter.
I was still restless.
I still wanted to be up.
I still wanted to hug both of them.
I lay in bed for an hour, tossing and turning, until I heard someone’s voice in the hallway. My heart leapt to my chest. Was it—”’Night, Bryce.” A door closed, then light flashed under my door. I slid out of my bed without thinking. No, that wasn’t true. My internal logic was yelling at me to stay put, but I switched it off. The need to see Corrigan was too much.
I opened the door just as he was closing his.
It opened again, and his head poked out. “Sheldon?”
I sighed. He looked good, so damn good. My fingers curled around the doorframe, and I rested against it, not moving another inch. I could see him. That was good enough. “Hey,” I whispered.
His face transformed. The slight concern morphed into a tender grin. “Hey, yourself.”
My heart started to pound more, growing stronger with each beat. “You guys are okay?”
“Yeah.” He paused, glancing to Bryce’s door. “They had questions about Guadalupe for him.”
“Oh.” I swallowed, a light-headed sensation was filling me up. “Like what?”
He shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing grin as he studied me. He knew what was going on with me. I’d been the one to crawl into bed with him for so many nights. I licked my lips. They were so damn dry.
Corrigan murmured softly, “Like the last time he saw her. What happened? When was the last time he called or texted her? Questions like that.”
I frowned. “That’s weird.”
“Yeah, it is. They asked the last time he saw her assistant, too.”
“They did?”
He nodded. “He gave them her phone.”
“Oh.”
“He said you might be mad since that was a big thing from going to the hotel that day.”
“Yeah.” I folded my arms over my chest and turned so I was leaning onto the doorframe. I wanted to go to him. It was the next best thing to hold myself back. “I wanted to see what else was on that phone.”
He nodded. “I know. Bryce feels bad, handing the phone over, but he thought it would help. He thinks the police are looking into Maria more. Maybe they’re taking this case more seriously and looking at other suspects or something.”
“Wait.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. “You think Maria killed Grace?”
He lifted a shoulder up. “Who knows? Guadalupe’s assistant is bat-shit crazy. I wouldn’t put it past her—hurt someone that had hurt you, set you up. Bryce showed me some of the messages she sent him. Some were just crazy. She was threatening him, saying that if he didn’t go back to Guadalupe, she’d do something to hurt the ones he loved.”
“Me?”
“It makes sense. It gives her motive.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yeah. She’s insane.”
“Oh.” I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I had never considered Maria as a suspect. Yes, she hated me and she was nuts about her boss, but killing? “Yeah, maybe. That’s crazy, though.”
“Newsflash, Sheldon. Whoever killed Grace is crazy.”
“I know. I just . . .” A wave of anxiety rolled through me. “I don’t really want to think about it now. Tomorrow, we’ll figure something out.” That was going to be the plan from now on. Every day we had to try something new. We had to.
“Can you sleep?”
My heart lurched back into my chest. That was the problem. “No.”
He hesitated, glancing at Bryce’s door again.
Corrigan was my best friend. He’d always been there for me. He’d been my shelter and protector. I held out a hand.
He looked at it, but didn’t move.
I kept it there, holding it out between us.
He continued to look at it.
My heart was pounding, louder and louder in my eardrums. I wanted him to take it. I needed him to take it.
Then I heard him, his voice hoarse. “You should check on Bryce. He needs you tonight.” And his door shut.
His rejection hit me. When his door shut, the sound was like an extra nail to my coffin. I opened my mouth, but there were no words. What the hell was I doing? I glanced at Bryce’s door, then I slipped from my room and kn
ocked on it softly.
Looking at the bottom of the door, there was no light shining from inside, and I didn’t hear him answer me. I opened the door anyway.
He still didn’t call to me, but I could see the silhouette of his body in the bed. He was sitting on the edge with his hands braced on his knees, leaning forward. “Bryce?” I entered the room, calling to him.
“She’s missing, Sheldon.”
I frowned, feeling a nervousness in my gut. “Maria?” The assistant?
“Guadalupe. She’s missing.”
Shutting the door, I left the light off and crossed to his bed. I stood in front of him, unsure what to do at that moment. “Do they think something happened to her?”
“Or she’s running.” He lifted haunted eyes to me. I could see the whites of them from the moonlight streaming in through the windows.
“Running?”
“There were messages on Maria’s phone to Guadalupe. They talk about hurting you. There’s even one that mentioned hurting someone and making it look like you did it.”
My eyes widened. I hadn’t actually thought . . . “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I’m so sorry, Sheldon.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s because of me. I saw the messages earlier today, and I was going to show them to you, but we got busy with the masquerade ball. You seemed intent on going so I figured tonight or tomorrow, then the cops asked to see me, and they were asking all these questions. I gave them the phone. I showed them the messages. I’m hoping it’ll help. I mean, my god, Sheldon. Then there’s another suspect. You could get that ankle monitor off.”
I didn’t know what to say. Guadalupe? Her assistant? I knew they hated me, but to frame me? To kill Grace over it? A surge of anger rose up in me. My fingers curled inward, forming fists. The desire to find them, to hurt them back, was growing stronger and stronger.
“Sheldon?”
“They hurt Grace? So she could be with you?”
“I’m sorry, Sheldon.”
I left. I didn’t know what to think and finding this out—that was the reason Grace was dead—I couldn’t be in the same room as him. Tearing through the door, I stalked into the hallway, but stopped suddenly.
Corrigan was there. He was waiting outside my door.
“Sheldon?” Bryce followed me. He stopped too, seeing Corrigan there. He said, “Let me talk to her.”
“No.” Corrigan shook his head as a somber look came over his features. “I sent her in there, but she came out.” He opened my door and stepped inside. “I’m done with being nice and holding back.”
His eyes met mine. I saw the stark hunger in him, and I gasped, feeling it in me, too. I didn’t think. I just went to him.
“Sheldon!” Bryce grabbed my arm.
I stopped in my doorway and turned to face him. I saw the agony there, how he wanted to reason with me, but I shook my head.
She was between us. She always would be.
“Sheldon,” he murmured again, softening his voice. “Please. I’m just starting to get you back. Please.”
There it was. Right there. Pain sliced through me as I said, “Maybe you were right before. Maybe what we did to Marcus put a block between us. Maybe I didn’t want to think about killing him and that meant pushing you away because you did it with me. Maybe. I don’t know, but I can’t undo that. I can’t go back. I . . .” I knew. “I choose Corrigan.”
“Sheldon!” His eyes widened. Desperation filled them. “Please.”
“I shouldn’t have to try to force myself to feel a certain way, and right now, I want to be with him.”
“Sheldon,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was wrong. I knew the second I shut that door, but I pressed my hand against it, and I stayed there, needing it for strength. Breathe in. Breathe out. Everything was going crazy inside me, but this—choosing and saying the words—this was the craziest thing.
“Sheldon.” Corrigan sounded so timid behind me. He was uncertain.
I swung around and shook my head. “I lied to him.”
“What?” He went still.
“I lied. I’m sorry, but I did.”
“Why did you—”
I thrust an arm out, pointing in the direction of where Bryce had gone. “It’s because of him. All of this is because of him. She did it. That Maria person. There’s a text saying something about just this thing, about hurting someone and making it look like it was me. They did it.” My chest was heaving. “Because of him. So that he would stay with her, and I would go away.”
“Are you kidding? That’s what he said?”
“It’s because of him.” But even as I said that, I bit my tongue. That wasn’t true either.
Corrigan echoed my sentiments when he bit out, “That reasoning is bullshit. This is bullshit. What the fuck, Sheldon? Get your head on right—”
“I’m all screwed up!”
“Then unscrew yourself!” he shouted right back at me. “Yes, there’s a psychotic person out there—”
I interrupted, my heart pounding, “Who killed Grace because of him! To hurt me! Because of him, because Guadalupe wanted him. Not because of me. Do you have any idea how Grace’s death has been weighing on me?” My voice shook. “She haunts me, Corrigan. I feel her everywhere with me. It’s like she’s watching me, judging me that I’m not finding out who killed her fast enough.”
That could all be over. If it were true, if it had really been Maria . . . would she leave then?
“Sheldon.”
I closed my eyes against the pity I heard from him. Gritting my teeth, I wanted to yell at him. I tried to muster up the courage. I wasn’t to be pitied. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t a victim, but when I opened my mouth to throw some blistering retort back, there was nothing.
I was empty.
Then I felt the tears. The first one welled up and clung to my eye, right on the corner. It held strong. I grinned, even my damn tear was too stubborn to fall.
“Sheldon.” Corrigan moved closer behind me.
I held my breath, but whispered, “Don’t.”
He rested his hand on my shoulder and kept it there. I squeezed my eyes tighter. I wouldn’t cry. No more—then they were sliding down, and I couldn’t stop them. I was crying. I was falling, and Corrigan caught me under my knees. His other hand circled around my shoulders, and he lifted me, carrying me to the bed.
To be honest, I didn’t care where he was taking me. My arms wrapped around him, and I let my forehead rest against his chest. I was back home. I was in his arms, and I felt a small sigh of contentment forming, mixing with all the hollow feelings I had going on.
I had missed him.
He held me during the night. I started to move around, growing restless later, I wasn’t sure how long it was. He pulled me back into his arms and smoothed his hand down my face. “Sleep, Sheldon. I know you chose out of anger. I know it wasn’t the truth. I’ll tell Bryce tomorrow.”
I heard the regret in his voice.
Then he added, “But I need to be with you tonight.” His arms tightened. “I need to hold you for one last night.”
I couldn’t sleep after that. Turning to face him squarely, we were both lying on our sides. I lifted a hand and touched the side of his face. We were just holding the other. I remembered the hunger from him earlier, and I felt the same stirrings in me again.
I said, “I don’t know who I’m going to choose.” Those damn tears were coming back. I felt them. “I can’t lie. I haven’t chosen because I have no idea. I love both of you. Bryce is passionate, like a thunderstorm.” And Corrigan was tender, like a gentle rainfall. Both were loving. Both were my other half. “I’m sorry, Corrigan.”
“Sheldon.” He sounded uncertain.
“Yes?”
“I’ve never told you exactly how I feel.”
I held my breath. Was he . . .?
“I know you’re going to pick, and I know it’s go
ing to be him, but.” He scooted closer. An inch separated us. I could feel his warm breath on my face. It was warming me, igniting a fire inside me. “Can I—” He bit off, his eyes clouded with doubt.
“What?”
I was staring right into his eyes. I started to plead with him. I didn’t say the words, but I was saying it with my eyes. He saw it, and he closed his eyes, a sound of relief coming from him. I felt his entire body relax. Then he inched close, so close, so slowly, until I felt his lips on mine. He held there, waiting for my answer.
I responded. I opened my mouth and moved against him, applying the gentlest of pressure to him. It was what I needed.
Then his hand came to my side, and I gasped. The feeling sent a rush of tingles through me. It was like I hadn’t been touched in so long, like this was my first time with a boy. A small dose of adrenaline surged in my blood. I was growing heated from the excitement. I wanted him that night. If this was the only time, I wanted to make it last.
Corrigan cupped the back of my head and rolled so he was above me. I turned to my back and held his face to mine. His lips explored mine. When his tongue slipped inside, it was natural. This was new, but it felt like we’d been kissing like this forever. A surreal emotion was winding around me, dragging me further into a spell.
I needed his touch. I just needed more of him.
“Sheldon,” he whispered against my lips.
I kissed him harder. There were words I wanted to say. They wanted to spill out, and I had to hold them back, not until I knew for sure, so I kissed him again, and again, and again. I didn’t stop kissing him. Not after his shirt was lifted free, not after I felt his skin against mine, and he was pressing me into the bed. Not after he trailed kisses down my throat, then to the valley between my breasts and over each of them. Not after he continued caressing me, not after his hands circled my breasts, cupping them and rubbing over my nipple. Not after his hand slid inside my shorts, and I felt him rest there, right at my entrance. He circled it with his finger, rubbing over it, and I was panting.
I was silently begging for more, but I still bit down on my lip. If I let those words slip out, I didn’t know what else would slip out. Then I felt his fingers move inside me, and he waited, stretching my insides.