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His jaw flexes as he studies me, considering. I know that regardless of what he says, he’ll still likely end up manipulating the situation so my sister ends up finding out. It’s just how he works. But still, a wave of relief washes over me when he shakes his head, the movement so slight I almost miss it. “I won’t tell her, if it’s that big of a deal. But there’s one condition for all of this.”
“Name it.”
“Therapy.”
My eyes bulge, and I startle. “What? You want me to see a shrink?”
“Yes.” He tilts his head, his eyes growing glassy and distant. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you know. Needing help. Your sister sees one twice a month. I attend with her on occasion.”
“Yeah, but you guys have things only a therapist could help with.” Even as I cross my arms over my chest, I know the sentiment extends to me. Can feel it in the hollowness behind my wrists, the dull, sad thump of a heart that seems to beat only when I don’t want it to.
He shrugs. “We all have our ghosts, Juliet. Butyouchoose to let them haunt you.”
I part my lips to say that I’m not sure the black hole in my chest can be exorcised, but I press them together a moment later, instead. He doesn’t need to know my details. Doesn’t need to know that I tried therapy before, when my mother didn’t know what else to do with me and needed a place to stick me when she’d go and get Botox injections.
He doesn’t need to know that even paid professionals don’t want to hear about me. Don’t understand me. That the only person I’ve ever felt could see inside my soul is the greatest monster I’ve ever known.
So I nod, holding my hand out. “Deal. On a trial basis.” He grins, his hand enveloping mine, secrets swimming between us like all the unknown creatures in the sea—patiently waiting to be discovered, but completely at peace with the realization that they may never be.
* * *
Carter’s grip on my hips slips as we grind on The Bar’s dance floor, our sweaty bodies trapped between dozens of others, a myriad of shapes and sizes and colors. Selma sits at the chrome bar, long legs dangling off her stool, watching us with a frustrated expression. Avery didn’t come out tonight, saying she has a shift at the diner in Stonemore she works at in the morning, so it’s just us three tonight.
I don’t tell Elia or Caroline that, of course, because if they knew I went with less than our agreed upon group number, they’d make me take security detail. And I’d die before letting Leo or Benito accompany me to Stonemore, where I go to forget.
A tall blond approaches Selma, leaning against the counter and striking up a conversation; I don’t miss the way her eyes seem to light up at the interaction, but there’s no time to decipher the twinkle because Carter spins me around and pulls my back into her stomach, lips curling over my ear.
Music reverberates in my skeleton, alcohol driving the fluidity of my movements. When she dips a hip, I dip the opposite, and we’re gliding against one another, the outside world completely forgotten.
Carter’s the closest thing I have to a sister besides my actual sister, and distraction’s always been her best talent, outside of painting. She knows I need to get out of my head, even if she doesn’t know exactly what’s going on in it.
My hands come up above us, tangling in her dark hair as our bodies twist and sway to the bass bleeding from the speakers. The tight, light pink, crushed velvet minidress I have on feels silken against my flushed skin, drawing the attention of some wandering eyes around us.
“I think we have an audience,” Carter rasps, her lips brushing the shell of my ear. Her hand comes up and grips my chin, forcing it in the direction of the back hallway.
It’s dim, lit by a singular light fixture, but I’d recognize those emerald eyes anywhere. They burn bright against the strobe lights on the dance floor, envy pulsing in the air between us. My lips curl into a sickly sweet smile as I bring Carter’s hand away from my chin and guide it down the length of my curves, reveling in the murderous scowl that transforms Kieran’s face.
He said he didn’t want to share me, but then he practically ignored me all week, too. And I’m getting tired of letting everyone have me however they please.
We don’t get to have life both ways—we eitherhavecakeoreat it, but we can’t have them both. The universe doesn’t work that way.
Or, at least, mine never has. I’m used to begging for even a scrap of someone else’s cake, though.
“So, let’s give him a show.” I wink at Carter, pressing into her.
Dressed in a suit that makes him look somehow more devilish than usual, he leans against the back wall by the office, never removing his gaze from me. Not even when Carter takes over, high on the music, and cups my breasts through my dress, or when I tilt my head back and rest it on her shoulder as we continue grinding our hips.
Pressure erupts in my lower belly, both at the naughty dance I’m entangled in with my best friend, and at being watched by the only man to ever turn my insides to jelly. My lips part of their own accord as he reaches up and loosens his black tie, knuckles pulling it away from his neck, and then the office door opens and he straightens, blinking out of the lusty haze he’d fallen into.
A tall, muscular man with a tattooed face frames the doorway, ushering Kieran inside, and as the door slams closed, I snap out of the daze I’m in and yank myself away from Carter.
She’s so drunk, she barely even notices my absence. Shouldering my way to the bar, I reach for Selma’s club soda and down what remains in her glass, trying to calm my racing nerves. Selma cocks an eyebrow, the blond from before long gone, and gives me a contemplative look. “What wasthat?”
“Beats the hell out of me.” I slam her glass down on the counter, catching the attention of the stocky, bald bartender, and jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Can you keep an eye on her? I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”
Selma shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. Although, I have to tell you, if she gets into a fight tonight, I’m leaving her ass here.”
Nodding, I give a salute and turn on my heel, pushing through the crowd to get to the back of the building. The line for the restrooms wraps down around the back, bending at the corner and ending at the bottom of a decrepit staircase.
