Page 35 of Lucky 14

I shouldn’t have believed something this good could last.

On the fourteenth day, Connor dies. When I get the call, it’s like my whole world crumples in on itself until all I can see is Connor lying on the ground, eyes open. I hear the shouts. I feel the heart palpitations. Over and over and over again. And during it all, it feels like my soul is being ripped in two.

I sit on the floor of my kitchen, that same open pack of Peeps in my lap, and stare at the cabinets. Only now, the Peeps are hard and stale. Stiff, like they’re frozen in rigor mortis.

It never stops.

I can’t make it stop.

I’m alone, Connor’s dead, and I can’t stop reliving it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Day 1

Work, work, work, fucking work.

I try not to come to the island. It’s entirely way too much face-to-face work. Did Brenda order enough sheets? Do we have a spare chapstick? Oh, Billy Bob and Joe Blow got into a fight, and now there’s only one of them to run the entire kitchen. Will you come flip the grilled cheese?

I suck the joint pinned between my fingers and hold my breath, looking down on the woods beyond from my private balcony. It’s just past the first event, and everyone’s out doing entirely too much.

I pull in another puff, enjoying the burn in my lungs. The Hunter’s Club is far more than a regular club, but I try not to think about it. It’s not that I’m against murder, or really debauchery of any kind, but it’s almost always way too much effort. Why be pissed when you can sit back and feel nothing?

And nothing is what I feel. I can barely feel the weed anymore. I need another hit of the good stuff, goddamn it. I pat down my pockets. Did I bring any with me? I try to think back over the travel to get here. Surely I would have stashed some, right? As long as I didn’t take it all at once.

There’s nothing in my pockets. I sit back, glaring at the woods. Reality is far too close. I can feel it creeping around the edges of my awareness.

Not safe. You’ll never be safe.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Sometimes the weed hits funny, and my brain starts getting all paranoid. I need something else.

I stalk inside to grab my vape and take a few hits. Nicotine pales in comparison to what I’m used to, but it manages to dull the panic that had started creeping in. Not as good as drugs and sex, though.

I rack my brain while I trace the skull pattern on the side of the vape. Why the hell can’t I remember if I brought my Molly? As I think back, I realize that Bobby Bill might have some, or whatever his name is. Plus, he owes me for making sure lunch got out on time. Unfortunately, Bionic Bob is not someone I’d like to bang. I’ll fuck any adult—man, woman, anything in between, but Buttcheek Ben smells like cigarettes. And I won’t do that for…reasons.

Not safe.

Fucking hell. I shove the anxiety down and stalk downstairs. Where the hell is this anxiety coming from? I’m not anxious.

I start chewing on the inside of my lip. The pain grounds me. Brings me back to my body. Not as quickly as cutting would, but it’s something.

I am in control. And I’m fucking safe because I’m in control.

I’m tasting blood by the time I find the kitchen employee. Turns out, he does have what I need. He hands it over, shaking a little, and his skin is pale.

He must need a hit of it too.

I take one of the tablets as soon as I walk away, swallowing it dry. I wander aimlessly, finding a private conference room that looks out on the beach. If I can’t feel numb, then I can at least choose what I get to feel.

And right now, I choose happiness. Sexy. Confidence.

It doesn’t take long for the drug to kick in, and I find the most delicious disconnected feeling settling over me. Life is gonna be okay, because the lights in this room are pretty, and I feel good.

Finally.

I’m floating for a bit before someone passes by the doorway of the conference room I’m in. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. He’s tall, although not taller than me, with dark shaggy hair and stunning blue eyes. And I realize I’ve seen him before. He’s the man from the club. Bathroom Boy.

Pretty-boy-emo glances in like he’s looking for something, and when he sees me, his eyes linger for a second. Suddenly, I wonder what his name is. What all that pretty dark hair would feel like in my fingers. What his lips would taste like smashed against mine.