“We’ve been at the house for a week!” Blake shouts back, taking a step toward him.
“It wasn’t my story to tell,” Tristan gasps out, stumbling to lean against the wall. “That was only the lead-up anyway to the part you need to know right now.”
He takes a ragged, pain-filled breath, and it suddenly clicks. His ribs are broken. We’ve been so concerned over Raina and her near-death experience, we missed all the signs of our idiot friend’s own flirtation with it.
“What else could there be?” Blake asks, bringing me back to the current bomb sitting in front of us.
“The latest rehab stint wasn’t what it looked like. She tried to kill herself.”
Darius stands in front of the sliding glass door, staring out at the beach and the ocean beyond. His silhouette is a drastic contrast to the dull, overcast sky. The gray clouds hang low, casting a muted gloom that drapes itself over the world outside.
He turns and smiles at me. The warmth of it is a blast of heat compared to the damp winter day outside. There’s something electric about him—his energy vibrant and alive, a beacon against the dreary backdrop.
It’s the complete opposite of what I am now. Not being able to talk… it’s been a strain. Okay, that’s an understatement. I feel like I’ve fallen into a dark hole and can’t climb out.
“Raina,” he calls, his eyes glinting with mischief. “What do you say we ditch this place? We can jump on The Storm and be out of here. It might be exactly what we need.” His voice dances with a playful lilt, teasing, doing his damndest to drag me out of my mood.
But how can I think about leaving and having fun when I don’t even know the extent of my voice? I’ve been too afraid to utter a syllable—what if it doesn’t even work anymore? It could sound like I’ve spent a lifetime chain-smoking unfiltered cigarettes… Nobody would want to hear that, not when my voice was compared to that of an angel.
Then there’s everything with Dickless hanging over my head. The songs he stole from me—little pieces of my soul pressed into every one. A trail of hints to all the trauma I buried in those lyrics, sitting out there for anyone to follow. Because he has the raw, journal versions. The ones I wrote while pouring my heart onto the page, purging myself of memories that still haunt me.
I’ve had plenty of time to sit here and think about it, and there’s one conclusion that I know unequivocally—I can’t sing for him ever again.
So, what does my future even hold? Where can I even go from here?
“Come on,” Dare presses, the sound of his voice vaulting me out of my thoughts. He steps further into view, his lean frame casting long shadows across the room. “We could escape this gloom together.”
I meet his gaze, my silence a challenge, one that he isn’t afraid to face head-on. I want to say yes. I want to feel the sand beneath my feet, to taste freedom again, to pretend none of this is happening to me. Yet, doubt creeps in like fog—what are his true intentions? I can’t shake the feeling that his charm veils something deeper, something I’m not ready to confront.
“Just imagine it,” he continues, leaning casually against the doorframe, exuding effortless confidence. “Somewhere tropical. The wind in your hair, the sound of waves crashing, the warm sun shining on your face. We could leave all this behind, even if it’s only for a few days.”
He flops onto the bed, landing in the spot that has formed to his body from having spent so much time with me here. He’s the only one who hasn’t respected my need to be alone, to wallow in my self-pity and—if I’m willing to admit it—my fear. He ignored every text demanding he leave, and all the thrown pillows landing squarely in his face.
Dare has remained by my side, letting me know that no matter what happens, the good or the bad, he’ll be here as a steady reminder that I’ll never be alone again. He’ll weather any storm next to me…
Something changed when he brought me back to life. Some kind of connection that can never be ignored. There’s a pull, even now, that I can’t deny, even if I wanted. A need to be close to him. Having him here with me brings a comfort I can’t name. Which actually drives me nuts. It sends me into a tailspin of guilt knowing I want to roll into his body and rest my head on his chest, to feel his arms wrap around me, to even simply grab his hand in mine. I shouldn’t feel this way when I have three very attentive—
Boyfriends?
We’ve never put a name on what’s happening between us, it’s simply progressed naturally. It’s something none of us have questioned too deeply, it feltright. We probably should put more weight into the nightmare that will undoubtedly come in the future, but somehow it doesn’t scare me knowing they’ll be there alongside me. What terrifies me more than anything now is losing them.
But why do I feel the same way about Darius?
He rolls toward me and stares at me for a moment before tucking a lock of hair around my ear. The briefest caress of his fingertips has my face turning into it, chasing his touch, wanting more. Always more. But never making it known because this is wrong. I shouldn’t want it.
What the hell am I doing?
I can see the wheels turning in his mind, the playfulness giving way to something more serious. “We really should take a break from all this bullshit. I’m not asking for forever. Just a moment away. Sometimes, you have to take risks to find out what you really want.”
For a brief moment, I panic thinking he can somehow read my mind, that he can hear the turmoil rolling through my thoughts. But then I realize some of it must be written on my face…
The air thickens between us, charged with unspoken truths. There’s a struggle within myself—the desire to break free from my own fears, to leap into the unknown, yet shackled by the terror lurking behind every self-doubt. My heart pounds in my ears, and I fight the urge to flee.
I lick my lips before biting down and pinning him with a pleading look.
“You’re right. Let’s just take a step back,” he finally says. “You need some time to think about it. And answers. You need those before you can make any decisions.”
He nods his head like he’s trying to remind himself as much as me. Tomorrow we should know everything we need to. The doctor will be here to check on my throat, to let me know if I can start using my voice again.
