51. Sydney
fifty-one
sydney
Carter shows up at my room an hour later. He’s in fresh clothes, his hair damp and finger-combed back. He inspects my space and drops onto the unused bed, watching me expectantly.
“What?”
“I’m hungry,” he says. “So maybe we should go to dinner.”
I sit on my bed and bring my legs up. The room service menu is within reach, so I grab it and toss it at him.
He catches it and puts it aside.
“I meant out,” he clarifies.
“I’m tired.” I was in bed when he knocked. I wasn’t sleeping, but I was pretty close. Maybe lifeless is a better description. Eyes open but dead on the inside.
“Did you shower?”
I shrug. The real answer is no, but I don’t want to admit that out loud. I’m gross. I just had sex with not one but three guys, technically. Two if we’re only counting finishers.
“Okay.” Carter stands. He takes my wrists and pulls me to my feet. Before I know it, he’s got my shirt and sports bra off.
I cover my chest.
“Since when do you do that with me?”
I look away, but I don’t drop my hands.
He pulls down my leggings and panties. He goes to his knee and helps get each foot out, and his fingers wrap around my calf.
My heart is sluggish, but it gives an extra-loud thud against my ribs.
“What’s this?” He traces the bandage. “It’s bleeding through it.”
He rips it off without warning. Sudden fear ignites in my chest. My secret can’t get out—it’s the only thing keeping me sane. I step away from him fast, leaving him standing with the bandage in his hand. Even from this angle, this distance, the blood is obvious. A wide patch of it, dark brown and dried at the edges, bright red in the center.
“You want me to shower?” I snap. “Fine.”
I scurry into the bathroom. I slam the door, but he catches it with his shoulder. He forces his way in, and the bathroom seems to shrink around us.
“Stop.” He reaches for me. “Stop running from me.”
There’s nowhere else to go, so he gets his wish. He grips my hips and pivots us, putting my ass on the counter next to the sink. When I try to hop down, he raises his head and glares at me.
I freeze. All I can feel is my heart pounding through my whole body.
“Please, Sydney.”
His attention returns to my leg. The cuts are more like gashes now, and one still seeps blood. He lifts my ankle and inspects them, running his finger just above the top one.
When his gaze hits mine, his expression is devastated .
“You did this to yourself?”
“I—” I stop myself and swallow. “Don’t tell anyone.”
He laughs, almost to himself, and turns away. He paces the bathroom, his hands going to his hair. He yanks at the strands, then leaves his hands on the back of his neck. When he faces me again, he has a new expression.
Determination.
“Where else?” he asks.
My mouth dries. “What?”
“Where else are there cuts?”
I must hold on to my secrets. I shake my head at him, saying nothing.
He pulls his phone and types, then shoves it back in his pocket. He doesn’t reply, just seems to be waiting for something. I desperately want to curl in on myself, but I don’t move.
His behavior sets my teeth on edge. The unpredictability of Carter Masters, a trait that was once alluring, now gives me pause.
Almost five minutes later, a knock comes. He goes and opens the door, and Penn walks in.
Oliver follows.
“No. No, no, no?—”
“He’s part of this,” Carter says. “You fix it with him or not at all.”
Carter grabs Oliver and drags him into the bathroom with me. I curl up, too aware of my nakedness. Their gazes both drop to the floor, and I peek over the edge, too.
Blood droplets.
I bury my face in my knees.
“I’m fine,” I lie to them. “I’m so fine.”
“You skipped all your classes this week,” Penn says.
I hadn’t realized he came in, too. Fingers touch my leg. Something cold covers the cuts.
“You and you— talk ,” Carter orders. “While Penn and I search every inch of this place for things she can hurt herself with.”
I jerk my head up.
It’s not Penn standing in front of me but Oliver. He doesn’t meet my eyes, and the other two leave us alone.
“I went too far.” His voice is dark and gritty, and it scratches some part of my soul that I don’t want to remember. “I knew I was crossing a line and I did it anyway.”
“Why did you even have those masks?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
He wets a washcloth, coming closer and pressing it to my ankle.
“Before we grabbed you, Bear and I bought matching ones. But then I thought it might be better to be different—I don’t know, it was fucking dumb. But we had both bought the same clown mask.” His other hand touches my knee.
It’s to steady my leg, I know, but a shiver rushes down my spine all the same. I just don’t know if it’s a good or bad one, and my brain is too muddled to figure it out.
“After the fight, one of the other guys brought Bear home. His mask was still in his car, so I took it.” He frowns. “I should’ve just left it alone.”
“Yeah.”
“And then Carter punched me in the face and I saw you .” His fingers draw a pattern on my knee. “I knew you told him something about us. Or me. Maybe even my family.”
Well, I did.
“I deserved today,” he says. “I deserved everything I got—every way you made me feel. I understand?—”
“You understand only a fraction.” I push him back and hop off the counter. “You do not know what it feels like to be a woman. You worry about stupid shit, while we always worry about rape. Always looking over our shoulders. Always afraid. I live in fear, Oliver. Every woman knows exactly how vulnerable we are. Throwing it in my face not once but twice…”
He runs his hands down his face. “ Puta madre . You’re right. How can I say sorry enough for you to believe me?” He steps away from me. “I’m going to walk out that door, and I swear, I’ll never bother you again. And hopefully that can ease your conscience a little. Help you heal.”
I follow him to the doorway of the bathroom, but he keeps going. I don’t know what to say, but I’m not sure I want him to go. Not after what happened in Carter’s room. Not after that apology…
My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.
He yanks open the door and strides into the hallway.
The door shuts behind him.
I move farther into the room, my emotions swinging wildly from fear to anguish. The dark of nothingness, of numbness, is so tempting. But when Penn cups my cheeks, lifting my head so I have to meet his gaze, I realize I don’t want to go back there.
Not yet.
I grip his wrists, and tears flood my eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Never,” he promises.
“You mean that?” Carter asks from behind him. “That you’re never going to leave her?”
Penn glances back. “I’m confident that after she’s had her fill of you, she’ll choose me.”
Carter scoffs.
“Stop.” I move around Penn, standing between them. “What if I can’t choose?”
They pause.
“What if I can’t? What if I want both of you, or…” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
I was going to say something crazy—like, what if I want all three of you? But that’s now impossible since Oliver just walked out without a backward glance.
“Stay with me,” I implore them.
They both nod.
And I don’t know how that kind of relationship would work, but this is a start.
“Where did he go?” Carter asks.
“Away. I don’t know.”
I climb into bed, so done with today. Penn crawls over me, taking the far side, and Carter lies on his side facing me.
“We’re calling room service, okay? I won’t make you go out in public tonight.” He touches my lower lip, swiping his thumb across it. “I have an early flight tomorrow, dream girl. You can come back with me if you want.”
I lift one shoulder.
Penn’s arm hooks around my waist. He kisses my shoulder.
The only thing I can focus on is that this, with them, feels right .