Chapter 25 #2
“Cult.” Hudson, Delilah, and Bradley said at the same time.
“I’m just trying to understand all of this,” I said, my mind still scrambled.
“There were a lot of regular people happily exploring, plus a surprising number of married couples. Then there were the VIPs, who were being waited on hand and foot by Archer and all the workers. They’re paying obscene amounts of money for their status.
If Lorelei is involved with one of them…
I’m worried for her. Especially if her drinking is out of control. ”
“Her drinking is always out of control,” Hudson said, seeming to fight to stay empathetic toward me given his disdain for Lorelei. “And that’s her problem, not yours.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, his features pinning me with a sudden, uncomfortable sincerity. “Did you get to explore?”
When three pairs of curious eyes met mine, my entire body went into panic mode. It felt like I was under a magnifying glass, on trial for sins I’d only just started to see in a new light.
“A bit,” I said, swallowing hard. “It’s hard for me.”
Hudson nodded.
Delilah cocked her head. “Ohhh, because of the church stuff.”
“Yeah, the church stuff,” I said, smiling without humor. Delilah was familiar with some of my past, but not as much as Hudson was.
“You’re not law enforcement. You’re not a journalist,” Hudson said. “If you feel like something is off, it is. You should get out now before you’re in too deep.”
Bradley flipped an omelet before turning to us mournfully. “Sorry guys, this is just feeling really heavy for me.”
We stared at him.
“My sister moved to Minnesota a couple years ago to become more involved in a plastic food storage container MLM, so…”
We all nodded, offering our condolences. Delilah rubbed his chiseled chest and then helped him with the rest of the omelets.
Hudson and I exchanged a glance, trying our hardest to keep straight faces.
“Enough with the cult,” he said softly. “But you should keep exploring. You deserve to have fun, even of the ball gag and riding crop variety.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Hudson.”
He sighed. “And you need to be one-hundred-percent sure Mr. Hottie is truly like you—one of us—and not one of them.”
My heart sank as I was reminded of Roman’s warnings. That people weren’t always who they seemed in The Circle. That unnamed others didn’t deserve my submission—that they weren’t honest monsters.
And then, I remembered Wes’s own words and whispers between states of consciousness: that he didn’t want to hurt me, that he didn’t deserve me, but he couldn’t stop.
“I don’t know for sure,” I admitted. It was hard to swallow suddenly. “It’s possible I’ve just been seeing what I wanted to see.”
Hudson and I weren’t touchy-feely friends, but his warm expression felt as close to comforting touch as we would get.
“We’ve all been there, Noves. You’re smart. Way smarter than any of us.”
“True,” Delilah agreed.
“Listen to your intuition, not a man’s pretty words.”
My phone rang. Wes’s name popped up on my screen, and instead of my previous excitement, all I felt was cold dread.
The explosion between us felt more like warfare than chemistry to me now.
“Hello?” I answered, slowly retreating to my bedroom away from the room of nosy eavesdroppers.
“Hi.”
My stomach flipped, betraying me. Fuck, if this was my reaction to his voice uttering a single syllable, I was doomed.
“Hi,” I echoed.
Wes chuckled, and I sank into my desk chair.
“How are you feeling today?”
I heard a car horn and a shout in the background, alerting me he was on the move this scorching Sunday afternoon.
“Exhausted and scrambled,” I said. “You?”
“Very similar,” he said. “Have you eaten?” He paused. “Coffee doesn’t count as food, Miss Writer.”
I made a face he couldn’t see. Not the Christian Grey cliché. He was better than that. “My roommate’s himbo is cooking us omelets. I believe that falls under protein and healthy fats.”
Wes laughed, making my toes curl. “It does. What is a himbo exactly?”
God, he was so offline, and it was so sexy. “A male bimbo.”
“I see.” He paused. “I know we didn’t play last night, but all that adrenaline and dopamine from the party itself still fried your nervous system. Take care of yourself, please. I know it probably wasn’t easy, from what you’ve shared about your upbringing.”
Fuck, I was confused. Was he manipulating me? Grooming me for the cult in a way I was too blinded by infatuation to see?
Before I could respond, I heard someone greet him.
“Bring it to the church?” they asked, finishing a sentence I hadn’t heard the start to. “Elections are happening.”
My blood ran cold. What the fuck were they talking about?
“Sorry, Nova, I’ve gotta go,” Wes said abruptly, something uncharacteristically jittery about his voice. He let go of a breath. “I’ll meet you inside,” he said to the mystery person.
“Love diners!” a girl squealed somewhere close to Wes.
“I’m tied up tonight, but how does Tuesday or Wednesday sound? I’ll cook, and we can talk.”
Oh, God. I was getting a very, very bad feeling, and that bad feeling was pairing nicely with a very, very bad idea.
“I’ve got a comedy thing Tuesday, but I can do Wednesday,” I said, keeping my tone light and breezy, as if I hadn’t heard a thing from Wes’s surroundings.
“Comedy…” Wes drawled. “I want to hear more about that. I’ll text you details. Go eat your omelet.”
“Goodbye, Wes,” I said.
“Bye, Nova.”
He hung up, and I sprang into action. After I was dressed in a black t-shirt and billowy burgundy pants, I bounded into the living area.
“Can I borrow someone’s black ballcap?”