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“Well.” I scoff a dry laugh. I feel so goddamn hollow inside, as if I imploded rather than exploded. Every tumultuous feeling drains from me in a split second, taking every ounce of energy I have left to fight.
“Okay then.” I exhale and turn around.
“Lochlan—”
“Don’t worry, I heard you.” It physically hurts to look her in the eyes. “Loud and clear.”
1. Play “Shameless (by Camilla Cabella)– Sped up” by Lewis Hanton
Chapter 24
Lucky Charms
Stella
I’m eating a late breakfast alone in the villa’s kitchen when the front door slams open. I jolt back in my stool then frantically reach for my fork. I grip it with my full fist, ready to take a motherfucker’s eye out, when Lochlan stumbles into view.
“Jesus Christ.” I exhale and relax back into my seat. “I thought you were in your room.”
“Nope,” he says flatly and lifts his brows, but his eyelids barely rise. His eyes are hazy and rimmed with dark circles and his shirt is fully untucked. He’s carrying his shoes, and I look down and see his pant legs are rolled and wet, his feet sandy. He shuffles in a tired sway.
“Have you been out all night?”
“Yep.” He leans on the counter across from me, having to rest his entire body weight on it to stay upright while he digs in his pockets.
“Jesus, Loch,” I mutter, concerned and slightly baffled. I haven’t seen him this bad since he was twenty. Guilt gnaws at me.
He finally pulls something from his pocket and throws a stack of plastic member cards on the counter. They fan out on the marble. With his head hanging, he looks at me. My stomach sinks seeing the hurt and spite in his eyes. It may even come across as vitriol, if he wasn’t so exhausted.
He doesn’t say anything else before going to his room and closing the door. I can’t help but feel responsible, but he’s a grown ass man. If he reacts to getting his feelings hurt by going on an all-night bender, that’s on him. His behavior proves my point: he’s too immature and unpredictable for me.
I need someone who can confront their emotions and have a discussion like an adult, not with me on my knees and his cock down my throat.
The memory of last night crawls into my mind, and the hypocrisy hits me like a ton of bricks.
I have turned and run from my feelings every step of the way. I knew how he felt and chose to ignore it because it was easier to pretend this was just a fling for both of us. I hurt him to protect myself.
I drop the bite on my fork, suddenly void of all appetite.
I get up and walk to the patio. The beach is a short walk away. Its pristine sand and aqua waters look like something out of a travel magazine. I curl up on the patio chair to feel the sun on my skin, but it does nothing to warm the chill eating at my bones.
I’m not supposed to hurt the people I care for the most. I’ve carried the eternal oldest sister role into everything I do. Taking care of others—even at my own expense—is where I bring my value, so this failure hits even harder. I am weighed down with this sick feeling of guilt, but at the same time, frustration and irritation begin to bubble up.
I’ve been honest with Lochlan from the start.
I never promised something I couldn’t give.
Why is it my fault he didn’t believe me?
Lochlan doesn’t come out of his room the rest of the day. Like a grumpy teenager, he’s hidden away, nursing the hangover I’m sure he has. As the day drags on, the more and more it irritates me. And the guiltier I feel.
After grabbing dinner solo at the oceanside restaurant, I come back and get ready to go out again. I don’t know if the game is even still happening after last night, but game or no game, there’s still a killer out there.
Though, the more time passes without any further incident or attempts to implicate me, the more I start to doubt I was intentionally framed. Maybe being drugged was something or someone else entirely. Could the two not even be related?
I’m beginning to think I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that getting me tied up in this mess was never the killer’s intention.
But then I remember how it felt to be convinced I’d killed someone. I’d never imagined myself capable of that, yet I was thoroughly convinced. That kind of persuasion doesn’t happen “accidentally.”
