Page 9 of Broken Truths

“I think we should give it a shot,” I finally say. “As long as we aren’t separated too much. Communication will be key.”

Oliver leans into me, his lips near my ear. “You just don’t want to give up their dicks.”

I smirk at his playful tone, something that’s been missing lately. Also, he’s not wrong. Turning in his arms, I spy his beautiful lips within easy distance and place a short peck there, just enough to feel him hungrily lean into it. “You know me so well,” I tease.

Pulling away, he kisses my forehead before I turn around again to face the other two. They both watch me, as if looking for direction.

I wish I could say the next steps will be easy. The truth is, they’ll probably suck. I’ll have major doubts. The guys will seem like strangers, and I’ll wonder what mess we’ve all gotten ourselves into, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re right. This is the way forward. I know it.

“Oliver and I will need something to do while you guys are sucking back up to the Knights.”

“Tim’s out,” Leo says, pinning me with a stare. “Don’t go back to the café looking for him, and if you don’t listen to my advice, at least don’t go by yourself.”

Oliver chuckles, turning his face so he hides it in my hair. After a moment, he says, “We can attempt to find Keegan. His father had Alaric deliver that bouquet to Dee. Maybe Keegan knows why. We can also ask him who was at the castle that night. And for that matter, we can poke around there, too.”

“Just don’t poke too hard,” Leo interjects, his gaze slicing toward me. “We don’t want Little Miss Astor getting married off right out from under us.”

I shiver at the thought. How could my father agree to that? I always thought of him as a strong man, not the broken shell of a person I saw in his office that night. Talking to him is a priority, too. I just have to figure out how to do it without sending him over the edge.

Oliver practically crushes me to him. I don’t know if it is in response to Leo’s words or my response to them, but I’ll gladly stay in his safe embrace.

“For now, we can keep things as they are,” Alaric states. My attention tracks to him. His hair is just a little unkempt, and his unshaven face gives him the air of teetering on the edge rather than the sexy disheveled look guys love to sport nowadays. It makes me want to go to him, but I’m still trying to figure all of this out. If I walk away from Oliver, will he be pissed? Will he think I prefer Alaric over him?

I’m always one to act on instinct, but in this, I’m stuck. It would be one thing if I hadn’t known Oliver most of my life, shared secrets with him since we were little, and had a past filled with just the two of us. I kind of sprang the idea of being with two other guys on him, so what if he decides one day that he doesn’t want to deal with it?

I nuzzle back into him, but the other pair of eyes staring at me feel like daggers until Alaric peers away. “Let’s just hope they don’t change the playing field on us.” He rubs the back of his neck, still staring at the hardwood floors like they’re the most interesting thing in the room before he strides toward the door. “Got to get to my next class.”

My feet stay rooted where they are as the three of us watch him go, and I wonder if the other two sense something is wrong, too. It can’t just be me. As soon as his hand wraps around the door handle, I step out of Oliver’s grip, relieved when he releases me without strain. “Alaric…”

I follow him out the door and onto the icy walkway until he finally stops. For some reason, I can feel the difference between us in this moment. He’s a professor and I’m just a student—his student to be exact. He certainly looks his part. He appears as if he’s been grading papers all night and dealing with asshole twenty-somethings and the last thing he wants to do is deal with another.

My throat dries. The slow breaths I manage to take release into the air in a billow of white. “You don’t like the plan?”

He gestures with his hand, and his briefcase thumps against his leg. Despite him appearing less than thrilled, he says, “It’s a good plan.”

I move closer. Every foot I take back between us is like leveling the playing field. “Do you really have to go to class? Or are you just trying to get away from us?”

When he peers down, his green eyes burn like dazzling stars. The moment I’m within distance, he moves his free hand around my back and slides it down, cupping my ass. “You are the only good thing in my life right now.”

I melt into him, bringing my hands up to place over his sweater. “So, what’s wrong?”

Somewhere, a squeal cuts through the icy air, and Alaric steps back. He darts his gaze around, and a moment later, two girls come around the side of the building, one pulling clumps of snow out of her hair while she pushes her friend playfully off the sidewalk.

“Walk and talk with me?” he asks once they’re past us.

I give a parting look toward Jarvis Hall, but I don’t hear any signs of a fight brewing, so I guess it’s okay to leave Oliver and Leo alone. For now. I catch up with Alaric, walking side-by-side with him as if I’m just his student asking about classes. I can’t hold his hand. I can’t lean into him. I definitely can’t do any of those things if Alaric’s going to try to make things right with his father.

We’re quiet for a little while until he releases a heavy sigh. I look up in time to see the billow of white smoke puff from his mouth. “Ever since I got the email about my sister, it kind of made it real, and in it being real, the last thing I want to do is try to make my father happy.”

My stomach squeezes. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” Alaric says, turning and giving me a small grin. “It’s all fake, anyway. My whole life is fake, actually, but I would do any of it because you deserve to know what happened to your sister…and because no one else—no woman”—he seethes—“deserves to be treated…” He breaks off with an annoyed grunt. “There’s not even a right word for it. Vile, disgusting bastards. They don’t deserve it. No one does.”

“I agree,” I tell him, my voice small even to my own ears.

Alaric pulls the door to a building open, and I look up to realize we’ve walked completely across campus. This isn’t the building that houses his classes, yet it still hosts the same gothic, old-world feel. I follow him down the hallway, the sound of my wet shoes squeaking against the tile until he stops in front of a door and uses a key from his pocket to open it. He holds the large, wood door open for me, and I walk in to find a small space with a desk and a very important-looking chair. “Your office?”

“You sound surprised. You never read my syllabus to see my office hours?”

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