Chapter 8 Megan
MEGAN
I wake up on the couch with a blanket thrown over me and tucked under my chin. Daylight streams through the window, tiny sparkling motes spiraling in front of my half-closed eyes like fairy dust.
I smile.
The throbbing between my legs is a reminder of what we did last night. My body is flushed and warm and utterly relaxed until I roll over and realize that Gio isn’t there.
Then it all comes flooding back.
Where I am. The reason I’m still here. The Amber-shaped hole in my life seems to be growing larger and emptier with every day that goes by without her.
Fear swallowing me whole like a toxic cloud hovering above my head, I push the blanket off me and swing my legs over the side of the couch, raw pain and nausea hitting me all at once.
I stand up, swaying precariously, and clamp a hand over my mouth as bile rises in my throat. It burns. The unexpected tears in my eyes sting. I limp to the bathroom, praying that I’ll get there in time.
When I’m done emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet, I sit on the tiled floor and rest my head against the wall.
Eyes closed, I try to still the swirling inside my gut and the dizziness making the room spin.
I barely touched my dinner the night before, I hadn’t eaten all day, and the pain in my foot isn’t helping.
I can’t carry on like this. For Amber’s sake, I should get up, take my meds as instructed, drink water, and eat something healthy.
I haul myself back onto my feet and splash my face with cold water. Better. I don’t look at my reflection in the mirror; I already know what I’ll see.
The queasiness is still lurking as I make my way slowly back to the living room, like it’s waiting for me to get back to the couch before it makes its next move.
“I’m okay,” I mutter, jaw clenched. “I’m not going to be sick again. I’m not.”
The aroma of brewing coffee makes my heart flutter, and my throat constrict. I swallow hard.
“Are you alright?” Demi peers at me from beneath lowered brows.
I hesitate between the kitchen and the living room. There’s no sign of Gio.
Demi must notice the disappointment in my eyes. “He asked me to stay with you. He’s taking over my cabin.”
She pulls two mugs from the stand, fills them with coffee, and brings them to the table without adding cream.
“Sit.” She pulls out a seat for me. “You look like you’re about to keel over, and that isn’t happening on my watch.” She keeps her tone light but fails to hide the rough edges behind her words.
I sit down and sip my coffee. The caffeine takes effect almost immediately, and I’m finally able to process what Demi said. “Why does Gio need your cabin?”
All I can think is that he wants some space, but that doesn’t marry with the Gio who wanted to come inside me last night.
The Gio who followed me down the slope in the middle of the night to meet Lucia.
The playful Gio who demonstrated how much I mean to him by spreading my legs wide and licking me into oblivion.
My face and neck grow hot when I remember that I tried to drug him last night so that I could attend my midnight rendezvous.
I should tell him what I did; it will eat away at me if I don’t.
But if he doesn’t want to stay in the cabin with me, then he might not react to my confession as well as I’d hoped.
The idea that he might’ve already figured out what I did sneaks into my head, my conscience yelling at me, “I told you so!”
“He didn’t say.” Demi is still watching me intently, and I wonder if this is her interrogation stare, designed to tease out the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. “But I think they’re treating it as some kind of war room.”
“War room?” My voice wobbles, and coffee spills over the rim of my cup as I try to pick it up.
Demi grabs a sheet of kitchen paper and mops it up. “War room. It’s a term given to a room designated for bringing a plan to life.” Her mouth tilts at the corners. “Sounds a whole lot worse than it is.”
I’m not so sure. The conversation with his brother-in-law sounded pretty fucking serious to me, and how did Gio end the call?
Game on. His family business is under threat.
From what I could make out, this was more important to him than the threat on his life, and all this is going on while Amber is missing and her father is still out there somewhere running rings around us.
“I need to speak to him.”
I go to stand up, but Demi steps forward as if preparing to block my way. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve eaten. Scrambled eggs okay?”
I slump back in my seat while she tunes the sound system into a rock anthem channel and starts cracking eggs into a bowl.
I don’t have the heart to tell her that the thought of scrambled eggs is making my stomach churn.
It’s wholesome food. I know I should eat so that my body has the strength to heal, but I don’t know how I’m going to force it in me and then manage to keep it down.
I sip my coffee slowly, my gaze subconsciously following Demi around the kitchen, while Bon Jovi belts out ‘It’s My Life’ on the radio.
There’s only one reason why Gio is turning the other cabin into a war room: he doesn’t want me involved.
He’s trying to shield me. This should be comforting; I should be able to bask in his protection like a lizard on a high sunny rock. But I can’t when we’re still no closer to finding Amber, and I know that Gio’s life is in danger too.
When Demi comes to the table holding two plates heaped up with buttery scrambled eggs on toast, I forget all about feeling nauseous and devour it greedily. I wash it down with coffee, my eyes searching for more.
“Hungry, huh?” Demi forks fluffy eggs into her mouth. “You barely came up for air.”
“I’ve had no appetite.”
It’s an understatement. The days since Nikki arrived and Amber was kidnapped have become a blur; I don’t think my memories of this time will ever be resurrected, and perhaps that’s a good thing.
“Where is Enzo?” It occurs to me then that Demi hasn’t mentioned him.
“He left hours ago.” She sits back in her seat, pushing her empty plate away from her. Her expression is giving nothing away.
“Was he…” I don’t even know if I should ask.
“Afraid?” She stares out the window, at the clear blue sky, and inhales deeply. “People like Enzo and Gio channel their fear and wield it like a sword. They’ve grown up with it. It’s almost like fear itself is nothing to be feared.” She shrugs.
“And you?”
“What about me?” She hides behind her coffee cup, but I swear I can see a hint of a blush in her cheeks.
“How do you feel about him going back to New York?” I press gently.
She sets her cup down and taps her lips with her index finger. “I see what you’re doing here. You’re trying to fabricate something between me and Enzo that doesn’t exist as a distraction from what’s going on in the war room. Sorry to disappoint you, Meggie. There is nothing going on.”
But she called me Meggie, just like Gio and Enzo do, and I smile inwardly.
“How did you and Gio meet?” she asks.
I want to say, “Now who’s creating a distraction?” but I don’t.
“It was on a film set in LA.” I smile—this is one memory that will never be erased. “Gio mistook me for an extra. He pulled me onto the set and kissed me.”
“Typical Hollywood meet-cute.” Demi smiles. “And I’m guessing it was love at first sight.”
“Oh God no.” I shake my head. “I mean, I’d already spotted him and slapped a demi-god label onto his back, but no. I was too angry to fall in love. Especially when I realized that we were being filmed.”
I drag my emotions back up. Amber was there with me. We were on our first real vacation, abroad, and I’d just been kissed by the most beautiful man on the planet, but I had to push this all aside and deal with the fact that our whereabouts had been compromised.
“Shit. Sorry.” Demi presses her palms together in front of her face as if praying. “You didn’t want to be found, and suddenly, there you were on the big screen.” Pause. “For what it’s worth, Amber is lucky to have you.”
I swallow hard and peer into my empty cup.
Demi immediately jumps up, grabs our cups, and refills them. She comes back to the table, sits down, and waits.
“I’m all she’s got. When our mom died…” I swipe tears from my eyes with the back of my hand.
“I couldn’t think about anything else but getting her away from her father before he killed her too.
He didn’t want her. He never wanted her.
I don’t think I ever saw him hold her, or smile at her, or stare at her while she was sleeping, you know? ”
Demi opens her mouth to voice an opinion and then changes her mind.
“I feel so guilty every time I look at her.” My voice shrivels, as if afraid to be saying these words out loud. “My childhood was so happy. It was filled with laughter and fun and love, and Amber will never know what that feels like.”
“Really? Is that what you’ve been telling yourself all this time? Or is it how you’ve distorted the narrative since she went missing?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, and the honest answer is I don’t know. Maybe I’m twisting the knife around inside my own gut because of the guilt. A form of self-sacrifice. Me for Amber.
“I saw you two together in New York, remember?” Demi continues. “She didn’t look like a miserable kid to me. She looked like a child who knew she was loved.”
Fresh tears spill from my eyes and trickle down my cheeks.
“Believe me.” Demi reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers.
“I’ve seen unloved kids. I’ve seen kids who are chucked out on the streets in the mornings to fend for themselves while their parents get shit-faced on whatever drugs they’re pumping into their veins.
Some kids…” She sucks on the inside of her cheek.
“I’ve seen things that shouldn’t happen in the twenty-first century.
Every kid deserves to be loved, and everyone can see how much you love your sister. ”
She pulls her hand away and sits back.