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I don’t say anything.
The same dull thunk from last night comes again, and then he knocks again. Harder. More demanding.
“Dammit, Low. Open up. I need to talk to you.”
My heart pounds hard in my chest as I stare at the door.
No. Not after what you did.
I don’t even say the words out loud, but my silence says what it needs to. He waits for another few minutes, then bangs on the door again and tries the handle.
Locked.
I hear him mutter something that sounds like “goddammit”, and then his footsteps move away. I’m just about to breathe out a relieved exhale when the door on the far side of the room—the one that leads to the laundry room, the one I stupidly forgot to lock, stupid, stupid—flies open, and Lincoln bursts inside, slamming it behind him.
An angry yelp escapes my lips, and I jump up, clutching my textbook to my chest as if he walked in on me naked instead of fully clothed.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I expect him to make a beeline for me, but instead, he walks to the bedro
om door, flipping the lock and yanking the door open. Dax and Chase are on the other side, their postures almost identical—hands in their front pockets, heads tilted slightly to the left. I might think it was funny if I weren’t so shocked and pissed off.
“I said, what the fuck are—”
“Yeah, I got it the first time.” Lincoln turns to me, his hand still on the doorknob and a hard look on his face. “You don’t want to talk to me? Fine. Fucking fine. But you will talk to someone. You need to hear this.”
He pulls the door open wider, and the twins step inside. Before I can utter another word of protest, he walks out, slamming that door behind him too.
The room grows suddenly quiet and still in the aftermath of the mini-tornado that just tore through here, and I have a very strong suspicion that Lincoln is standing outside with his back pressed against the door, prepared to keep the three of us in here indefinitely until I listen to whatever Dax and Chase have to say.
I press my hands to my face, blowing out an angry breath. “Jesus. Can he ever do anything the fucking normal way?”
Chase cocks an eyebrow. “Linc? Yeah, uh, no. Not likely.”
“In his defense,” Dax drawls, slipping his hands back in his pockets and leaning against the door just like Lincoln is probably doing on the other side, “you didn’t give him a lot of choice. He’s been trying to talk to you all week.”
“Yeah?” I toss my biology textbook down on the cushion of the easy chair. “Well, I don’t want to hear what he has to say.”
“Not even an explanation?”
My head snaps up, my gaze locking on Dax’s green eyes. They have just a hint of blue in them—the exact opposite of his twin, whose eyes are blue with a touch of green. And right now, they’re serious, the teasing light that usually dances in them nowhere to be found.
Swallowing hard, I dart my tongue out to wet my lips.
I’m sure Dax doesn’t know that in my dreams, he’s always the one holding me back, preventing me from helping my mother, from exposing the man in black, from doing anything. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t like it if he did know.
“Isn’t an explanation just another word for an excuse?” I demand.
He thinks about that for a second, then nods. “Can be. But you won’t know until you hear it, will you? Whether it’s an explanation or an excuse?”
“Low, we know you’re pissed. And we get why.” Chase steps forward, and when he sees my body tense like I’m about to run or fight, he holds his hands up, palms out, and takes a seat on my bed facing me.
“It shouldn’t have gone down like that,” Dax adds. “But we had no choice.”
“That’s bullshit!” I blurt.
The shock at their sudden invasion of my room is fading, and although I spent a week refusing to talk to any of these guys, it turns out I’ve actually got a lot I want to say.
