Oh God, how the hell am I supposed to look any of the guys in the eye tomorrow? And what the hell do I tell Callie?
As I simmer in my existential crisis, Nolan picks Callie up bridal style and she laughs, her eyes bright with equal amounts of desire and happiness.
“Come, love,” Nolan proclaims with relish, spinning her quickly on their way to the giant bed. “We have so many naughty things to do to you.”
“Oh my,” she gasps theatrically, one of her hands pressed to her chest. “What is a girl to do?”
“Enjoy it,” he croons, and then tosses her onto the bed, punctuated by Callie’s high-pitched squeak.
They immediately pounce on her, but there’s something more to it that I didn’t really notice when I first arrived. They’re all happy. Not just in the woo-hoo sex way, but they’re genuinely content. They smile when she leans up to kiss them, and she freely lavishes them with her affections. There’s no reserve to their joy. This is more than a sexual fantasy. It’s a fantasy of Callie loving unconditionally and being loved in return.
After blushing when Donovan whispers something I assume is dirty in her ear, Callie looks over at me with the hint of a frown. “What are you still doing over there?”
Clearing my throat, I stand up and flash her a tight smile. “On my way, just grabbing a couple things.”
“Don’t forget the chocolate sauce,” Donovan calls, as his heated gaze runs down Callie’s semi-prone form.
“I don’t know,” Nolan teases, licking his lips while his hand slips over D’s shoulder. “She already tastes pretty sweet to me.”
Mayday. Mayday. Abort. Abort.
I reach for the bottle of massage oil I had in my hands when I first popped in, and then my stomach flips when I grab the bottle of chocolate sauce. Closing my eyes, I do a silent prayer that dream me will stay to lavish her with the attention she deserves, and then I blink back to the real world feeling more lost than ever.
Chapter 18
Callie
It’s December 1st, six days since Phoenix—a trip never to be forgotten thanks to my back-to-back meltdowns—and Kaleb still has the Bastard’s journal because even the idea of seeing it again has my stomach turning.
“Maybe I should just let him do it,” I mutter, leaning against the wall outside of the B wing bathroom. My phone is up to my ear so it doesn’t look like I’m talking to myself.
“Do what?” Felix yelps, then with his gaze just above my head, he tries again in a not quite casual tone, “I mean, who should you let do what?”
“Let Kaleb read the journal for me to see if there’s anything in there that can help us,” I answer, looking at him strangely.
Since we left the others after lunch, I’ve been whispering my thoughts to him on what I should do about the damn journal. Hell, this conversation was the reason I asked him to walk with me, thinking he’d have a better perspective on the subject having known the guys longer than I have. Also, he’s the only one that’s seen some of what I’ve been through.
Felix has been bizarrely skittish since we returned from Phoenix, particularly when it’s just the two of us. His gaze seems to jump everywhere, he gets distracted, and he’s been changing the subject to the weirdest topics, like what’s my favorite ice cream topping. When I answered chocolate syrup, he went on a stuttering fit about my feelings on chocolate in general. He also hasn’t brought up the fact that, for a moment, I was able to grab his wrist or how he’s able to feel something when we touch. And any timeItry to bring it up, he changes the subject.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask for what feels like the millionth time within the past six days.
“Me? Okay? Yeah, I’m, uh, totally fine. N-Nothing wrong here,” he stutters, while rubbing the back of his neck and taking visual interest in an anti-bullying poster.
Pulling on my sleeve to cover my free hand, I reply softly, “You know if there was anything wrong, I’m here for you too. I’m a pretty decent listener when the need arises.”
“I’m fine, Callie. Really,” he promises more sincerely, his eyes meeting mine with a tight smile plastered across his lips.
“Okay,” I concede, trying to hide my hurt. He called me by my name instead of my nickname.
It’s not hard to tell that he’s lying, and I worry I’ve become too fragile these days. That he’s keeping things from me because he doesn’t think I can take it. I consider asking one of the other guys about it, but then I’d be putting one of them on the spot. If Felix doesn’t want me to know whatever it is, I should respect that, right?
Foisting a more normal smile on my face, I go back to my earlier question. “So, what do you think about Kaleb reading the journal for me? Do you think he would…I mean, would it be too much to ask? From what I can remember, the journal is… detailed, and it’s not like he can forget it…”
“Let Kaleb read it,” Felix responds, this time sounding more like himself. “He’ll want to help you and knowing the details won’t make him run. This is Kaleb we’re talking about,” he scoffs with a wry smirk. “He has a savior complex a mile long. If anything, you’ll have to tell him to go away.”
“That’s not comforting. You know that, right?” I tease, shaking my head. “Okay, I’ll ask Kaleb to read the journal, then we can have another chat insisting that he doesn’t treat me like a delicate flower.” I uncomfortably tally up all of the meltdowns Kaleb’s witnessed and groan. “Crap. That’s going to be a hard sell. That damn thing better have something useful.”
“Hope so,” he murmurs, rubbing his neck again and staring at his feet.
