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No one.
My vision swims, and through the watery distortion I see the screen of my phone light up again.
Daphne: The way your tongue felt
No one’s heartbeat can be this fast. It’s not survivable. Jesus, I would do anything to have my head between Daphne’s thighs right now.
Daphne: I want to see you
Not like this, she doesn’t. Not like this.
But the suggestion is enough to pull me back from the brink.
Emerson: Then come see me.
I can practically see her hesitating. See her biting her lip.
I dial Sin’s number next. He answers on the first ring. He wasn’t lying about being out to dinner—silverware clinks in the background. Conversation rises and falls. The ambient sounds of somewhere expensive. “What the hell’s going on with you?” he asks.
“Dad came to visit.”
He curses under his breath. “And?”
“I threw him out.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
The conversation gets quieter. He must be going someplace else. “Are you okay?”
Fuck no. “This is a courtesy call to let you know that I gave him at least one black eye and he’ll probably try to visit you next. I didn’t give him the name of your hotel.”
“I didn’t think he would go to your place.” Traffic now. Car tires on snow. He went outside. “I can come back. Are you still home? I can be there in forty-five—”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“What the fuck would I want you here for?”
He’s silent, and I feel a stab of guilt. Sin is one of two people on the planet who knows me at all, as much as I hate to admit it.
“Okay,” he says finally. “I’ll call Will. Let him know.”
“You do that,” I say, and then I hang up on him. There’s nothing more to discuss.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Daphne
“I’m a prisonerin my own life,” I tell Eva.
She laughs at me over the phone. “Prison is an art supply store?”
“I mean, yeah, if you can’t move about freely.” I’m on the second floor of my favorite place to buy paint and canvas, and honestly, I don’t need this long to pick out canvas. I’m here for the moment of peace. “They’re everywhere.”
“The security?”
