9. Thalia
Chapter nine
Thalia
“Ihave to pee. I have to fucking pee,” I sing as I turn onto the familiar gravel drive that connects the compound. Twenty hours in the car with minimal stops has proven to be a bitch, and I’m on the verge of pissing myself as I pull behind Alana’s Porsche.
The Audi I’m in purrs gently, and I cut the engine as I toss the door open. I linger for longer than necessary, fisting the neckline of the shirt I found on the backseat and taking another hit of Reed’s scent.
Fuck! He smells like bergamot, leather, and grapefruit. It’s bright and sharp while still having a rugged edge to it. Ever since I slipped the old t-shirt on, I’ve been lifting it to my nose every couple of hours to get another fix. I can’t stop letting it wash over my senses.
I’m addicted.
And I never want to wash this. Or return this car. I want it to remember him by.
“Ugh! He’s a penis, Thalia!” I rip the visor down before pointing at myself in the mirror with a disappointed scowl. “You have a fun drawer for a reason! Shove some silicone up there and suck it up!”
I turn the car off before dipping into the night.
It’s roughly around twelve in the morning as I scale the side of Alana and Connor’s home.
I get right under their bedroom window before pulling my ladder out of the bush and propping it against their window sill.
As I climb, my bladder screams in retaliation for my nighttime activities.
Their window is locked. Naturally.
What is up with people locking their windows? This would be ten times easier on me if they weren’t so damn responsible.
I pull my debit card out of my pocket before sliding it through the seal and popping the lock. As I slide the glass pane up, I’m not subtle as I clamber through it until I face plant on my best friend’s bedroom floor.
“Huh?!” Connor shoots up in bed, doing that weird thing he’s always done since we were kids. He acts as if he’s coming straight out of a flashback or something as he peers around for danger.
He scares the shit out of Alana with it all the time.
My best friend rises groggily, sitting up and placing a hand on her husband’s chest. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“They’re here!” He mumbles drunkenly.
“Who?” Alana scrubs a hand over her face.
I stand up from the floor. “He’s talking about me—”
Alana screams as she latches onto her husband tightly, who looks like he’s being yanked straight from sleep paralysis hell and into another nightmare as he joins her in her shrieking.
“Stop screaming!” I wave frantically. “It’s just me!”
“Thalia?!” Alana places her hand over her heart as the other pushes her pink bonnet back.
“Hey, guys.”
“Fucking Christ,” Connor pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. “Stop breaking in!”
I hold up a finger. “Yeah, one sec. I need your bathroom.” I dip into the connected room, shutting the door before relieving my bladder and washing my hands. When I step out, I smile as I dry my hands. “What are you two up to?”
Alana’s arms are crossed as she tilts her chin towards the door. “Let’s talk downstairs.”
Oh…
I’m in trouble.
“Can’t we just talk up here?” I laugh nervously. When my best friend doesn’t respond, I turn on my heel. “Downstairs it is.”
“Let me get this straight…” Alana lifts her praying hands to her lips as she takes a deep breath. “Your phone died, and that’s why none of us heard from you?”
She’s currently pacing in front of me, still dressed in her adorable pink nightie with white lace. Her husband is seated beside me, avoiding eye contact with me as he remains silent.
“I called Bailey and told her that Brooks is trying to kill her,” I shrug as I scratch at the back of my neck.
Connor’s eyes flicker to me, and we both roll our lips in. He snorts, quickly covering it with a cough.
“This isn’t funny!” Alana throws her hands up as her lips twitch. I can see the humor of the situation is winning over her anger as she finally giggles and covers her eyes. “You’re getting another AirTag.”
“Oh, come on!” I proclaim.
“You had us all worried sick about you,” Connor says. “The AirTag is for the best.”
God, I feel like I’m getting scolded by actual parents. It’s nice to know I’m cared for, but I’m just going to ditch the new tracker the moment I take another hit.
Alana’s eyes trail down my clothes. “Who’s shirt are you wearing?”
I grab the chest of my shirt, turning my body possessively as I shield it from her. “No one! It’s mine.”
Her expression softens. “Wait, did you meet someone?”
“No,” I respond quickly—defensively.
Connor slaps a hand on the table before rising. “I’ll give you two a minute.” He kisses Alana’s forehead tenderly, cupping her cheek as they share a heated moment.
My chest pangs at the sight. I’ve always been Alana and Connor’s biggest fan, but sometimes I’m a little envious of the connection they share.
After growing up with parents who rarely held an ounce of kindness or affection, it was hard to rewire my brain to recognize the signs of true love and companionship.
Alana and Connor have been the blueprint ever since.
Connor may be an ass at times, but he’s soft for my best friend. He dotes on her endlessly and knew that the way to her heart was through her very close-knit family. They accepted him with open arms, and he’s made every day a dream for Alana.
If I ever want a relationship, I know I want it to be as consuming and passionate as theirs. I won’t take any argument on that end.
I almost laugh at the absurdity. To think I could ever have anything that comes close to their bond is a pipe dream.
My mother made sure to destroy my confidence around every corner, ensuring that all I am is a pretty face.
No man will ever see me for who I really am and think I’m a catch, but it’s still something my dreaming heart tries to weave together.
Can’t blame a girl for imagining her fairytale ending is a reality.
As Connor leaves us, I’m left staring at the floor with my fingers drumming on the table. Alana slides into the chair beside me, resting her hand over mine.
“Did you meet someone?” She asks quietly.
I absently lift Reed’s shirt to my nose, taking in his scent again as comfort washes over me. “Yeah…”
My best friend’s head tilts as she chases my eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I swallow past the emotion in my throat, smacking the perfect, playful mask back on as I finally look at her. “No—”
“Don’t do that,” Alana scolds lightly. “Don’t pretend to be okay when I know you aren’t.”
She’s always seen right through me. I’m thankful for the friendship we harbor, and I’m even more grateful when my shoulders sink and I feel the tears pricking my eyes. She won’t judge me. “He was just…” I throw my hands up before slapping them on my thighs. “I feel like I screwed everything up.”
Alana shakes her head. “You didn’t screw anything up, Thalia. There’s still a chance—”
“No, there isn’t.” I laugh humorlessly. “I stole his car.”
My best friend blinks. “Come again?”
“I stole his car!” I turn to her, my expression a little unhinged as I giggle wildly. “He’s bound to hate me now.”
“Well, you haven’t completely ruined this. Why don’t you return his car?”
My eyes flicker to her. “He’s a traveling surgeon. Would you be able to track him?”
Her eyes light up as she leans towards me. “He’s a fucking surgeon?! Thalia!”
I smile. “He’s a damn good one, too. He took the bullet out of my shoulder. He fucks like a god—”
“You two fucked?!”
My lips pull over my teeth. “I may have drugged him—”
“Oh my god.”
“—but he was lucid! I just convinced him he was dreaming.“ I’m trying to salvage the situation, and it seems to work a fraction.
“And he was okay with dreaming about you?” She questions.
I avoid her eyes as I shrug. “He said it wasn’t the first time…”
My best friend spreads her hands wide. “Okay, I’m tracking this man for you. I need everything. His name, his socials, last known location. Give it all to me.”
I chuckle. “Reed Bellamy.”
“Ooh,” she draws as she props her elbow on the table and rests her chin in her hand. “He sounds hot.”
“He’s sooo hot,” I gush. “He has this whole good boy vibe to him, but he likes pain, Al!”
Her brows lift. “Holy shit! Your little sadist heart was eating that up, huh?”
“He may have asked me to carve my initials into his chest.” I smile sheepishly.
Alana reaches across the table, placing her hand on my arm. “And you think you ruined this? It’s obvious this guy is just as crazy about you. You have to find him.”
We’re both delusional on the notion of Reed actually liking me, but it doesn’t stop those old wounds from resurfacing. My smile fades a little as those insecurities bite at me. I draw back from my friend, my eyes becoming distant as I’m shunted into a memory.
“You’re lucky your punishment isn’t worse than this, Thalia,” my mother bites as she stares down at me.
We’re in the interrogation shed and I’m bound by chains to the floor. It’s been days since I was first brought down here. Dad is taking a break, and Mom has decided to pay me a visit during my punishment.
She sinks down to squat in front of me, and I recoil as fiery pain burns across every inch of my body. I haven’t been able to assess the damage, but I know there are scars that won’t heal and my stomach is roiling with harsh hunger.
My mother snatches my chin, examining me with those horrid, scrutinizing eyes. “He’s left your face alone. Good. We can’t have that scarred up.”
She releases me as I suck in a ragged breath. The concrete beneath me bites into my knees, and my whole body feels like I’ve been set on fire. I can register the warm trickles of my blood leaking down my flesh, but I don’t know where it’s coming from.
Not with her looming over me.
“You should thank Brooks. He did you a service,” my mother turns her back on me as she walks towards the hatch. She places her hand on the railing before looking back at me. “Let this be a lesson, dear. All men are the same. They only see a pretty face.”