Page 66 of Wicked Minds
She’s the bane of my fucking existence.
And the best fuck I’ve ever had.
I shake my head to dispel that pesky voice.
The only reason she popped into my mind right now is because she’salwayson my fucking mind—because she ruined my fucking family.
Not because I want to fuck her. Or because I’m jealous.
I’m not either of those things.
“I need to get laid,” I grumble aloud.
Except, it’s only auburn hair and hazel eyes I see when I picture that so, yeah, maybe not.
Not feeling as refreshed as I should after such a wrenching climax, I shut off the shower and climb out. Checking the time, I realize I wasted far more time than I care to admit daydreaming abouther. Logan and Royce must be back by now, so I hurriedly towel off before pulling on sweats and a hoodie and padding downstairs.
However, the house is silent, and the kitchen is empty when I reach it. I call out their names, checking each room downstairs before knocking on their doors. I didn’t hear any sounds from their rooms when I passed, but maybe I missed it, too busy thinking about everything we needed to discuss. Everything I need to tell them.
Poking my head into both their rooms, I find them empty. Huh, I guess they stayed a little longer than usual. Royce probably got caught up talking to Xander or roped into another fight. It’s not unusual for that to happen, so I shrug it off andgrab a beer from the fridge before flicking on the TV while I wait for them.
My thoughts once again drift to our ensuing conversation.
I’m still hesitant to tell the guys, to hear what they think. To have the life very possibly I thought I knew ripped out from beneath me.
But at this point, I don’t see that I have any other choice.
The truth is, I’m… floundering.
I wake up every night to Gran’s broken voice in my head and Riley’s hazel eyes staring back at me. Wide. Pleading. Looking oh so fucking innocent.
I’m psychoanalyzing every childhood memory, wondering if the harshness in my father’s face and the trembling of my mother’s hands were real or a figment of my imagination.
I can no longer tell what’s real from what isn’t. The truth from the lies.
Up is down, and down is up, and nothing in my life is making sense anymore.
The beer goes down too easily, and I pop the top off a second one while I wait. It’s only when I’ve downed that too that I realize how much time has passed.
Where the fuck are they?
I type the same question into our group chat and stare at the screen, expecting the little gray ticks to turn blue, letting me know it’s been read. Except the color doesn’t change.
Growling, I press the call button and listen as it rings three times before cutting off.What the fuck?Logan, the bastard just hung up on me. Getting seriously pissed off now, I call Royce, but his just rings out.Are the two of them ignoring me?
“Such fucking bullshit,” I mutter aloud to absolutely no one because I’m all fucking alone in this house.
Deciding beer isn’t strong enough, I switch to whiskey, sipping at it over the next few hours as I stare unseeingly at theTV. The array of colors is the only light illuminating the room and casting shadows over my depressive thoughts.
The one night we’re supposed to talk… Royce was the one that fucking insisted on this, yet where the hell is he? Not here, that’s where. Not where he’s fucking supposed to be. Where he said he would be.
It’s then that it hits me… could they be with Riley? As soon as the possibility enters my mind, it’s all I can fixate on. Of course, that’s where they are. Whereversheis.
That goddamn bitch, stealing yet another thing from me.
She shouldn’t fucking be here!
Halston U was supposed to bemyfresh start. Away from all the bullshit from high school. Here, I’m no longer the son of convicted felon Bertram Van Doren. I’m just Grayson. Business major. Top of his year. These four years were my reprieve before committing myself fully to Van Doren Holdings and building a company that people would respect out of the smoldering ashes my father left it in.
