Page 124 of Lucky 14

I straighten, suddenly determined. I want that. How does one get that?

The soft sounds of conversation float down the hallway. Holland and Oakley are talking. There’s something about their tone that makes me freeze.

“You gonna make me do the dishes again?” Holland asks.

“Doing dishes is better than staring at the rain.”

“I’m not a housewife,” her voice is snarky.

“You could be.”

A flare of something possessive curls in my chest. Is this oaf…flirting with her? Suddenly, all I want to do is stomp down that hall and pick Oakley up by the scruff of his neck. It makes no sense; all I know is that that dominant, angry therapist is mine.

I see red. I storm down the hallway and burst into the kitchen. Both turn to look at me in surprise, and suddenly, all I feel is their eyes on me, and I realize I’ve just shown weakness. My face is so hot it feels like it’s on fire, but I can’t stop myself.

I point a trembling hand at him. “Do the dishes.”

Oakley’s mouth drops open, but after a beat, he frowns and moves to obey.

I don’t look at Holland. I can’t. I can’t see what she thinks of my weakness. Instead, I turn and dart back to my bedroom, slamming the door.

My heart beats so hard it feels like I can’t pull in a breath, and I pace in front of my dresser. What the hell was that? Everything is wrong, even the way I’m acting. Since when do I get possessive over a woman? It’s my policy not to let women close. A policy that has worked well for me.

So why do I still want to bash Oakley’s face in?

I need to get a grip. Going to the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face. It’s then that I notice the orange sticky note on the mirror.

I stare at it for a minute. Kyan helps around the island with tasks I don’t want to handle. When the hell was he in my house? And how does he know Holland?

My thoughts race in a confusing mix. Confusion, anger, and once again, that loud note of fear. The same fear I’ve been trying to smother.

The note settles over me like a bucket of ice water. Is the one thing that’s given me a small amount of peace dangerous to me?

My fists clench, and before I can stop myself, I smash my right one into the mirror.

I just want to feel fucking safe.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Day 12

I’ve been avoiding Oakley as best I can, considering we’re all stuck together in the same house. I’m not exactly sure why we’re here, and I really don’t want to know. Some part of me knows that asking that question will release the floodgates. And the demons are already doing their best to unlock them, scratching at my brain, begging me to drink, no, don’t drink, black out, it’ll just be easier, no, if you blackout the monsters will catch up. I can’t make up my damn mind.

So I’m lying in the bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. I can’t move, paralyzed by everything churning in my mind. It’s a crude ceiling—they made it quickly, so it’s just plywood. I count the knots over and over. I can count fifteen without turning my head.

I usually run to alcohol and sex to help me escape. And now there are two hot people in my space who I normally wouldn’t hesitate to fuck. But the thought makes my chest tight. I want them, and that’s a problem.

They think we’re crazy.

The warmth and comfort that a soft hug brings can be replaced by alcohol, but I think I’m out. I can’t make myself get out of bed to check.

Also, where’s Wyatt? I keep expecting to find instructions from him like I always do. Earlier, I even went to the Villa and rifled through his office, expecting him to storm in and stop me. Only, something deep down in my gut said that wasn’t going to happen. No one had cleaned up the body in the hallway either, and it was starting to smell ripe.

The Game has never gone this wrong before. I don’t usually remember much of it, but I also spend a lot of it drunk, just getting rid of problems when I need to.

My stomach cramps. Why don’t I remember much? This can’t be normal.

And so I’ve been drinking all day, trying to get things back to normal.