Chapter 28 #2
West smiles happily, leaning down and kissing her again and she sighs into his touch. But I don’t know that I feel the relief I should be.
“As more than brothers, Berlyn,” Ezra explains gently.
She huffs, rising up on my elbows and West gives her more space but still hasn’t gotten off from atop her.
“I’m not dumb, Ezra,” she argues. “I don’t think brothers enjoy biting each others’ lips and sharing the blood amongst themselves.
Also there was a lot of sharing going on earlier.
I wasn’t drunk this time and I very clearly remember tongues that weren’t mine on dicks.
” She rolls her eyes and looks at me. “Plus, Jude already told me he was bi and I’ve never seen you with anyone else. Not a hard leap to make.”
Says the girl who thought she was sleep cleaning. I don’t say the thought aloud, too grateful this isn’t going the awful, terrible, horrific way it could have gone. None of us would have been able to choose if Berlyn wanted us, but not us.
We should have had more faith in her.
“You’re really okay that we’re all in love with each other?” Ezra asks and I can’t blame him for wanting to hear it again.
She nods, but a blush creeps up her neck and on to her cheeks. “Yeah, I mean…well…” she trails off, grabbing a pillow and putting it over her face.
West shakes his head, grabbing the pillow and throwing it clear across the room. His silent glare demands for her to continue and her face turns even more red. But any doubts, any questions, now’s the time to put it all out on the table.
“Well…” she starts again. “It doesn’t bother me.” I wait but she doesn’t say anything else, her eyes fixed on the ceiling above us and not on any one of us. West pinches her nipple and I nearly gasp at the rough move.
“Ow,” she complains, smacking his hand. “I was just wondering if you guys maybe loved me too? Or could maybe love me one day?” she mutters in a hurry.
I can’t help the laugh that spills out of me. That’s what she was worried about? Oh, our sweet, naive girl. She glares at me and Ezra and West both roll their eyes.
“I love you, Berlyn,” West says, holding her chin firmly so she can’t look away from him. It’s my turn to roll my eyes now. Of course he had to beat us to the punch.
“We had a whole plan on how to confess to you,” Ezra explains, climbing out of bed in search of what I would assume is the light. The morning light still hasn’t begun to filter in and Berlyn’s room is too dark for her to have noticed any details of our tattoos.
There’s also the slight possibility we’ve been keeping her too busy and exhausted for her to even have had a chance to look if she wanted to.
He hits the lights and comes back to bed. I sit up straighter, waiting for her to notice it but she’s only looking at Ezra in confusion. He climbs back in bed but doesn’t lay down, instead he grabs her index finger and rests it against the ink on his chest.
Colorful swirls dance across his skin, but everything leads back to the design over his heart.
All of the art Weston has carved into our skin, each piece tells a story, a lesson, something we want to remember.
But all of it? All of it leads back to the piece that decorates all of us in the same spot.
It takes her another beat before she begins to study what is under her finger.
It’s a Ferris wheel, but one that has been eroded with time, has broken spokes and missing cars.
It’s haunted by shadows and has an overall decrepit and despondent feel to it.
Until you notice the singular vine growing through the wreckage, twining around the worst of the broken pieces and metal and a small bud, waiting to bloom.
“Wait,” she murmurs, tracing over his pec.
“This is familiar.” The words a question as she flips through her memories trying to locate why it feels that way to her.
“This is mine,” she finally says, the realization bringing my favorite shade of pink to her cheeks.
“How do you have this?” Her eyes flash to each of our chests, my tattoo is clearly on display.
She even catches sight of West’s, though he still hovers over her and she doesn’t have the greatest view of it.
“All of you,” she huffs. “How?”
“We’ve loved you since that day in high school you bumped into West and sent both of your papers flying,” Ezra explains, smirking at the memory. “You had us bewitched with your bobbing head and rambling apologies and sweet blush.”
She exhales in wonder, like there’re no words she has in response to that and her eyes well with tears, but I know they’re the happy kind. “You stole my art to tattoo it on yourself?”
“You left it,” West corrects. “Marked us.”
She laughs again, an effervescent sound that lifts me up and makes everything seem right in the world for the first time in my life.
“I love you guys too,” she breathes, a single tear running down her cheek.
Weston beams at her, rolling his hips and making her moan as he licks the wayward tear.
“Wait,” I say, staring at them in shock. “Have you been inside of her this entire time?”
Guilty expressions cross their faces, breaking the tender moment as West sets out to prove our love for her in a different way.
The second time we’re awakened isn’t nearly as fun.
An incessant ringing makes my eyes fly open as I realize it’s the doorbell.
Ezra groans at my side, fumbling for his phone with half-closed eyes.
It takes him far longer than it should to find and then unlock the thing.
But once he does, he sits straight up, blinking the last bit of sleep from his eyes.
“What the fuck?” he curses, shaking Weston, who is in fact already awake and staring at him. “The cops are here,” he explains, looking around us for clean clothes.
Thank fuck he thought to pack a bag for us to have today or we would be answering the door in our dirt covered sweats. An interesting choice for sure.
I get out of bed, grabbing the bag off the floor and tossing it on the bed. West catches it before it even has a chance to hit the mattress, glaring at me as if I were really about to hit Berlyn, who is still sleeping peacefully unaware.
I get dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of clean gray sweats and t-shirt. “I’ll get the door and see what they want.” I gesture to Berlyn. “You guys wake her up.” I hate that I even have to say it, but I already know the cops won’t leave until they see her.
The doorbell rings again and I roll my eyes. Impatient bastards. Why are they even here so damn early?
Checking the time as I walk out of Berlyn’s room, I realize it is later than I thought. Some would argue it is in fact an appropriate time to visit. I’d disagree though. It’s still the day after Halloween and they’re coming to a college student’s house.
Answering the door, it’s the same officers from the other day.
“Is Ms. Matthews here?” one of them asks, looking me up and down with disdain, his gaze lingering on the tattoos decorating my knuckles.
“She’s waking up,” I explain. “What can we do for you?”
The two officers trade looks and the one who hasn’t said anything shakes his head. “We need to speak directly to Ms. Matthews.”
I nod, leaning against the doorframe and crossing my arms in front of my chest, content to let them wait outside until she’s dressed.
“Jude,” she scolds from behind me. “Invite them in.”
I grumble but she only calls over me. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Stepping back from the doorway, I open the door wider, allowing them inside and leading them to the living room. Weston walks out of the kitchen and heads back into the bedroom, a cup of coffee in hand.
Questions flash in the officers’ eyes, but it’s not their business.
I keep my arms crossed, meeting their curiosity with boredom.
It’s an awkward and tense few minutes until Berlyn comes back out from her room, followed by West and Ezra.
The officers’ eyebrows raise, but they must have some common sense because they don’t say anything.
“Our apologies for the intrusion,” one of them starts, only speaking to Berlyn. “But we needed to check in with you.”
She nods, sitting on the couch and crossing her legs before uncrossing them. She rests her hands in her lap, but then messes with her hair only to abruptly stop and put her hands at her side. My lips twitch as I watch her fidget.
West steps behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder and some of the tension bleeds out of her and she meets the officer’s gaze. “Of course, thank you for waiting for me.” She says the words with a slight grimace, but West squeezes her shoulder encouragingly. “How can I help you?”
The officer dips his head, a solemness overtaking him.
“We found Professor Richard’s body, classifying this as officially a murder investigation.
” Wow, that took them longer than I thought it would.
Sure, the studio apartment wasn’t under his name, but did his wife truly know nothing of it?
Ezra was able to find it relatively quickly.
Berlyn swallows thickly, her eyes wide as they dart back and forth between the two officers. Her mouth opens but no words come out.
“This is a lot to take in,” he says gently. “But we had a few more questions for you.”
She nods her head for him to continue and Ezra brings her a tissue as her eyes water. There’s no way she’s acting, but it doesn’t feel like genuine sadness either. She was already aware her professor was dead. They might have needed to confirm it, but she didn’t.
“Has your stalker attempted to have any further contact with you?” he starts.
Berlyn hides her initial reaction behind the tissue, pretending to blot her eyes. When she removes it, her gaze is locked on her fidgeting hands back in her lap. “No,” she lies, “not since the…delivery.”
Her face turns a little green at the thought and I grimace in my own seat.
“No other notes? Or suspicious activities?” he presses, but she only shakes her head.