Page 28 of Turning Back

In my game.

A new game.

The three of us together. All day, every day.

My mind is spinning with ideas. Plots and plans to get what I want. What we all want. It’s not really all about me.

Well. I chuckle, feeling a little smug. It’s mostly about me.

Chapter Six - Rochelle

Adley is just about asleep when a loud knock at the door startles her heavy eyes open.

“Shhh,” I say, swaying her in my arms in front of the window. It’s sunny today and the sun makes her sleepy.

The knock comes again and I want to kill whoever is on the other side of that door right now. I walk across the living room and down the small hallway. Opening a hotel room door is never a quiet affair. There’s all those serious locking mechanisms and you really have to pull. So by the time I get the door open Adley is awake.

Bric’s knuckles are poised to knock again and Quin is standing off to the side.

“You woke her up,” I say. “I was just trying to get her to sleep.”

“Sorry about that,” Bric says, pushing past me to enter the room.

Quin waits for an invitation, so I oblige by waving my hand and saying, “Come in,” as I turn away and go back to the window. Adley is having none of it. Bric comes up beside me and whispers, “I told you to be getting out of the shower. And why is she still awake?”

I vaguely recall my phone ringing this morning at six AM. Even more vaguely the one-sided conversation with Bric that came afterward. I have no memory of this shower request.

“The long t-shirt is a nice touch though. Shows off your legs. I’m going to presume you’re not wearing underwear?”

“Am I interrupting something?” Quin says behind us.

I look over my shoulder and see him sitting on the white leather couch, hands in front of him, leaning forward with legs slightly open, looking at me like… well, not quite like he used to.

We are a long way from where Bric thought we’d be today.

His suit is dark blue, his tie and pocket square are light gray, and his shirt is crisp white. He didn’t shave this morning, so his face has just enough stubble to make him sexy, but not enough to make him unkempt.

His blue eyes track to my legs when I turn. I am wearing underwear—stupid Bric. But that’s it. “This is what I wear to bed,” I reply by way of explanation.

“I didn’t say anything,” Quin says, almost smiling.

“I know. But you were thinking it.”

We sigh together, thinking of all the ways we know each other intimately. And all the ways we are strangers now.

“Is it a bad time, Rochelle?” Quin asks. “We can leave.”

“No,” Bric says, pressing into me a little. He’s warm, and big, and overbearing.

“She needs a nap,” I say, still looking at Quin.

“Here,” Bric says, reaching for Adley. “I got this.”

Quin covers his mouth with his hand to hide a laugh. I’m not amused. “Forget it, Bric. You’ll never get her to sleep. She’s awake now. And she’s probably hungry.”

“I can feed her. Where’s that bottle warmer thingy?”

“Bottle warmer thing? Since when are you an expert in feeding babies?” Quin asks.