12. Sina
It was a slow Monday night at Jack’s. Which only gave me more time to be alone with my chaotic thoughts.
Why hadn’t I seen Kiron since group therapy? Or any of the guys, really. Tomorrow would make a full week since I stormed out of that warehouse, and nothing .
He’d called me his , for fuck’s sake. Like a damn caveman. Or an animal.
I huffed under my breath. That was some dark romance bullshit right there. The kind of line men used in books to sound possessive and dangerous, right before the heroine either ran screaming or fell into bed with them. Usually both.
Real life didn’t work like that.
Did it?
I shook my head and kept scrubbing. Still, it was weird how the word had stuck with me. Weirder still that he hadn’t come back to try and claim me. He knew where I worked. And Nik had my number. But they had just stayed away.
Why?
I desperately wanted to see them but the only place of reference I had to go was that creepy as hell warehouse.
And I definitely wasn’t going back there.
I could contact Nik, demand answers. But that would mean letting myself be vulnerable.
Again . I’d done that enough with Harlow thank you very much. I growled in frustration.
How could I have let him in like that?
I had almost felt like he used some kind of mind control on me. I snorted. Be real Sina . You were dick-matized not hypnotized.
Who the fuck holds group therapy in a warehouse, anyway?
My scatter-brain bouncing back and forth between all four men was a mind fuck. Exhausting. Overwhelming. My thoughts landed on the sexy blond and glasses .
Dr. Nikolai Petrelli.
There was no way he was a real therapist. Though I wasn’t about to analyze his motivations for pretending to be one right now, or how the hell he’d gotten my number in the first place. I’d gone over it a thousand times and still had no answer.
Without calling him on his shit, I probably never would.
Which just pissed me off more. I was tempted to text him.
He’d told me to save his number after all.
But some part of me felt that he would be brutally honest with me if I asked for the truth, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear him out yet.
I scrubbed the bar top harder.
Maybe I needed to go to the address Bloom gave me. Or confirm the doctor’s name he recommended to me. At least I would know for sure if he was who he claimed to be.
No, it wasn’t necessary. I already knew the answer.
It was obvious, wasn’t it?
God , I should be happy they’d all left me alone. That was the smart reaction. The healthy one. There was too much shit wrapped up in them. Too many unanswered questions, and moments I couldn’t explain without sounding unhinged.
So why did being away from them feel like withdrawal?
Like something had been yanked out of my system cold turkey, leaving me jittery and off-balance and reaching for something I knew I shouldn’t want.
This was why I needed therapy. Somewhere along the way, my brain had rewired itself to crave the wrong things.
Dangerous men who didn’t play by normal rules.
Men who made my pulse spike and my thoughts blur.
My survival instincts were a little fucked .
I scrubbed harder, jaw tight, annoyed at myself for even thinking about them. Wanting dangerous men wasn’t new. It was a bad habit I couldn’t seem to kick, no matter how many times it burned me.
“You okay, Sin?” Danielle asked, her gaze flicking down to the rag in my hand. “You’ve been scrubbing that spot for, like, ten minutes. Is something on your mind? Wanna talk about it?”
I blew out a breath, a loose strand of hair fluttering across my cheek.
It was right there, on the tip of my tongue, to tell her everything about group therapy, the warehouse, the men who had taken up permanent residence in my head.
But if I opened that can of worms, she’d ask questions.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear myself answer them out loud.
For starters, wanting four men wasn’t normal.
Danielle studied me for another second, then smiled like she knew better than to push. She reached for a couple of shot glasses, grabbed Jack’s favorite vodka from beneath the bar, poured us each a shot, and slid one my way.
I lifted a brow. “Jack won’t like us drinking on the clock.”
“Jack’s doing inventory in the back. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She lifted her glass. “Come on. Live a little. I’ve had a shitty week and could use the distraction. And by the looks of it so can you.”
I chuckled despite myself. “Alright, fine.” I tossed the rag onto the bar top and took the glass. “What are we cheersing to?”
She tilted her head, actually thinking.
“To surviving another week of hell and still standing strong.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
I clinked my glass against hers. The vodka burned its way down my throat .
Danielle coughed, making a face. “That is god-awful.” She coughed again, already pouring us another. “How does Jackson drink that stuff? It’s like rubbing alcohol.”
I laughed, setting my empty glass down.
“And yet you’re pouring another.”
Danielle’s phone buzzed on the bar top.
She glanced at it, lips pressing together, then flipped it face down without a word.
“Everything okay?”
“Yep,” she said too quickly. “Just my ex.”
She reached for the bottle and poured herself another shot like the conversation was already over.
The phone buzzed again. This time, she didn’t even look. Something tightened in my chest. I knew that reflex. I wanted to ask if she was okay, again, but something in her blue eyes told me she didn’t want to talk about it.
Who was I to press her to share, when I’d done the same thing for years?
She forced a smile as she slid the bottle back toward me. “So? Who is he?”
“Who’s who ?” I was still distracted by the now silent phone sitting face down on the bar between us, that I had zero idea what she was talking about.
“The man you’re obsessing over.” She pointed a wiggling finger at me. “Trust me, babe. I know that look.”
I took the third shot and slammed it back down, sliding the glass toward her.
“Hit me.”
Her brows shot up. “ Oh shit , that bad huh?”
She poured generously this time.
“Oh god, the irony of four .” A laugh caught in my throat as I downed my fourth shot.
She blinked. “Four… Four what? ”
“I’m obsessing over four men. Not just one.”
I braced myself for judgment. Instead, she whistled and leaned on the bar.
“ Damn, Sina. I can barely handle one dick, let alone four.” She cackled, cheeks pinking as her gaze flicked instinctively down the hall toward Jack’s office.
My eyes widened. “ No fucking way . You’re sleeping with our boss?”
“ Shhh . He’ll hear you.”
I smothered my amusement with my hands, shoulders shaking. God, this felt good. Normal. Two girls leaning on a bar, tipsy and gossiping. This was what I’d been missing.
Danielle took a seat at the bar and I followed, plopping into the barstool next to her.
“Okay, but seriously Sin. No wonder you're off in la la land all week! I would be too if I was contemplating my life choices.”
“It’s not like I planned it.”
Danielle snorted. “Four men. Jesus, Sin.”
I shrugged, cheeks warm from the alcohol. I suddenly felt shy.
“Uh-huh. I swear I’m not judging!” She leaned her chin on her palm. “I need to live vicariously through you. Tell me something, I'm dying here . How’d you meet them? Do they know about each other? Because if not, that’s a mess waiting to happen.”
“Okay fine.” I bit my lip. “They’re all friends. But they don't know I’m interested in all of them.” I thought about how Harlow and Kiron were fighting over me, and decided to leave that part out. Admitting I wanted them out loud was enough for me.
Danielle squealed. “You bad girl! You have to tell them. ”
I shook my head. “No way. Plus, I haven’t talked to any of them all week.”
Her smile softened. “That sucks, babe. But you don’t need to sit around waiting for them to call you. Take charge.” She jabbed a finger at my shoulder. “You’re a badass bitch. Make the first move.”
I laughed, shaking my head harder. “I only have one of their numbers. And he isn’t the one I’d want to call anyway.”
No freaking way was I calling Nik.
“Why not?”
I hesitated. Just a beat. Kiron’s face slid into my mind uninvited. “The one I want to call… didn’t give me his.” I shrugged. “But he knows where I work.”
Her brows lifted. “Oh. You met him here?”
“ Yeah . Actually you did too. Last week. When that jerk slapped your ass.”
Her eyes glossed over.
“He defended me,” I prompted. “Tall as fuck. Leather jacket.”
Danielle nodded a little too fast. “Of course I remember.” She didn’t look at me when she said it. That prickle hit the back of my neck. She was lying.
Why?
Because she’s drunk, I told myself. That had to be it. Except… she’d been pale. Shaking. Barely able to speak when Kiron stepped in. I remembered how she’d stared at him like she was seeing a ghost, mumbling something under her breath. You don’t forget something like that.
So why was she brushing it off like it had never happened?
This didn’t sit right. I shook my head slightly, the movement making my head fuzzy. Probably nothing. Just alcohol. Just a weird week. Still… the feeling lingered .
Who were these men? And why did they come into my life only to disappear just as fast?