23. Who Left a Dildo in My Bed
Who Left a Dildo in My Bed
CARTER
Inside the Rosewood Athletic Club, I dribbled the basketball across the court and passed it to Liam before gingerly rolling my shoulder to test my mobility.
I was still a little sore, but thankfully I’d avoided surgery after my shoulder dislocation, and the doctors seemed pleased with my overall recovery.
I’d taken brutal beatings before, but with the dangerous cocktail of drugs I’d been given, I’d spent several days in and out of consciousness while the doctors worked to clear my system.
When I finally left the hospital several days later, it was with terrible tinnitus due to a ruptured eardrum and a sore, somewhat useless arm.
Now, I was almost finished with my medical grounding, and while I didn’t mind the break from the tactical missions, it absolutely sucked not being able to fly. The last few months had been frustrating, to say the least, but there was, however, one thing I looked forward to these days.
My long phone calls with Sara.
Some nights, we talked about absolutely nothing, and other nights, I could feel Sara’s walls slowly coming down as she trusted me with more and more.
The crazy thing was, I found myself doing the same.
Our late night talks had become a lifeline during my recovery, because when we weren’t falling asleep on either end of the phone, my mind was swirling with theories that made my stomach churn, wondering what kind of organization would hunt me—with no fear of retribution.
The problem was I already knew the answer.
The kind of organization that my father had been in business with. The kind of organization that could possibly influence and infiltrate even the most prestigious government organizations. The kind of organization that could very likely be behind?—
“Damon, pass the ball.” Rowan Belacourte shouted from across the court, shaking me out of my thoughts. Liam stole the ball out from under Damon Kingsley before he could pass it.
“Nice try.” Rowan intercepted the ball from Liam and took his shot. The net swished a moment later. Rowan, was the oldest Belacourte, and was about as ruthless on the court as he was in the boardroom.
I grabbed the ball and headed back down the court. I was trying to take it easy on my healing shoulder, and I was. Mostly. Which meant Liam and I were currently losing by a mile.
“Let’s go, Kensington.” Liam shouted at me in frustration.
“Dude, he’s injured.” Rowan rolled his eyes at Liam as he attempted to steal the ball from me anyway, but I quickly dodged around him and passed it back to Liam, not wanting to strain my shoulder any more than this game already was.
I had to get back to work ASAP, and I wasn’t going to fuck that up over a pickup game, no matter how important Liam was currently convinced it was.
Liam took the ball the rest of the way down the court, and the net swished as the ball went in.
“That’s game.” Damon panted, half folded over, hands on his knees while sweat poured off him.
I shook my hair out, a spray of sweat flying off me. It felt good to get some exercise. Slowing down had absolutely wrecked me these last few months.
The gym doors opened a moment later and Eva, Rowan’s other half, came into the gym looking like she was about to pop as she neared the last weeks of her pregnancy.
“How’s she doing?” Damon asked Rowan, watching Eva slowly waddle over—she stopped to talk to someone in the bleachers.
Rowan shook his head, a wary look passing over his face. “She’s hanging in there, baby’s healthy, Eva’s healthy. That’s all I can ask for.”
I raised a brow, and Liam shook his head and shrugged. “No idea.”
Rowan jogged over to Eva, giving her a sweaty peck on the lips that made her turn her nose up while he grinned.
Damon pulled his shirt over his head and wrung it out. “How long you home for?”
“Just this weekend.” I crushed an entire bottle of water, wishing it were still cold.
“Damn, I was hoping to connect you with one of my contacts.”
“You know I’m not coming back.” I countered.
“Don’t bullshit me.” Damon panted, “I know you’ve got one foot in, one foot out.”
“Dame.” I groaned. “Seriously? Not you too.”
He shrugged, “You’ve gotta stop running sometime.”
“I’m not running.” I headed towards my bag on the bleachers.
“Sure you’re not.” Damon said, walking backwards towards the gym doors. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got an investor meeting, but it’s really good to have you home. Let’s do this again.”
Damon Kingsley, Theo’s older cousin, had been a family friend for years, and he’d been another one of those key people to come through for me after my parents had died.
I considered his words. The only problem was, Damon had no idea what I was dealing with because the Kingsleys were new money .
He wasn’t from my world, where things were run more quiet and powerful, where there were decade-old agreements practically drawn up in blood.
He didn’t know how deep the old-money conflicts ran.
It was a fucking nightmare. One I intended to avoid at all costs.
“I’m going to head back and shower.” I told Liam. “Meet you for lunch?”
“Yeah... see you there.” He grumbled and didn’t look up.
I paused. “What’s up?” He looked up at the ceiling in exasperation, phone in hand, and I caught Gina’s name on his text screen. “Everything going okay with the Mrs?” I asked.
“Not exactly.”
“Want to talk about it?” I stretched my shoulder, rotating it in a slow, wide circle.
“I don’t know if there’s going to be anything to talk about soon.” A wary look passed over his expression.
“What’s going on?” I asked genuinely concerned. They’d been on the road to marriage for sometime now, though I supposed if he hadn’t popped the question, maybe there was a good reason for it.
His phone rang, and Gina’s contact card popped up. “I’ve gotta take this,” Liam shot me an apologetic look.
“Do your thing. See you at lunch.”
At the lounge inside the Vandenbergh Hotel, I dug into my usual Cobb salad with extra steak and extra shrimp, all while my heart broke for my best friend—because Liam looked so defeated, so hopeless, as he explained that him and Gina were on the verge of breaking up.
He was already on his third drink, words growing less articulated by the minute, as he desperately struggled not to fall apart.
“I don’t know, I feel like I’m slowly losing her.
She’s busy with work, I’m busy with work, and the long distance is taking its toll—it was just supposed to be temporary, but it’s not.
We started down two separate paths without even realizing it, and I have no idea how the hell to find my way back. ”
“Maybe you’ve both grown into different people.” I said quietly. “A lot has changed for you both since college.”
“ Maybe , but we’re great together.” Liam pushed the food around on his plate, voice nearly breaking.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this—we were supposed to—I was gonna—” He shook his head and threw his fork down in disgust. “I was waiting until she moved back, because that’s what we’d discussed, but now she’s not moving back, and I’ve had this fucking thing sitting in my sock drawer for three years .
” He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, and my shoulders sagged as he softly set a ring box on the table.
I stared at that little velvet box, knowing whatever laid inside was a sparkly representation of Liam’s hopes and dreams.
Liam pinched the bridge of his nose as his voice caught.
“It doesn’t even matter. I can’t give her what she wants—what she needs , and at the end of the day, I just want her to be happy.
Even if that doesn’t include me anymore.
” He sighed heavily, eyes shuttered. “ But I waited because she asked me to. ”
“I’m so sorry, Liam.” I murmured.
He loosed a heavy breath, jaw flexing for a long moment before he finally murmured, “I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about this anymore.”
I desperately wished there was something I could do for him, but there wasn’t.
“Don’t be sorry, I wish you would have talked to me about this sooner, especially after the year you’ve had.
How are you doing with all that?” I asked cautiously, knowing there was never a good time to bring these things up.
“It fucking sucks. I can hardly sleep. My father is God knows where these days. Work is a fucking nightmare. I’ve hardly had time to slow down and process everything.
” He huffed a heavy sigh. “It’s just been one thing after another, but I’m hanging in there, really I am.
It’s Sara I’m worried about. She’s back at school, and I hardly ever hear from her—after what happened in the spring, I’m just worried about her all the damn time. ”
I shook my head knowing he was right, Sara was an expert at keeping everyone at arm’s length, and she’d only barely started opening up to me again—even in the midst of his heartbreak, Liam was still taking care of everyone else, but I sensed he was changing the subject, so I let him.
“Have you seen her lately?” I asked casually, trying my best to keep my tone even. “Sara?”
“No, but she’ll be in town on Sunday.”
“Any reason in particular?” I quickly realized he had no idea about her art show tomorrow, and in light of everything, that fucking sucked. “It’s not winter break yet.”
He shrugged. “Same as you and me, I guess. Sometimes you just need to be home.”
Shit, why hadn’t Sara told him about her exhibition?
The only reason I knew was because Sloane had texted me, and thank God she had.
It was Sara’s first completed series since losing her mother, and her first ever gallery showing.
It was a huge accomplishment, and I was extremely proud of her for it.