Sicko(46)

I squeeze my phone in my hand, my eyes flying to the photograph of me, Royce, Orson, and Storm out on the boat when we were kids. “Sure did. Guess that’s what happens when one kid leaves the other behind.”

Wicked takes a seat on the chair tucked under my desk, as quiet as ever. His silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s easy. His presence, on the other hand, is intense.

Royce sits on my bed. “What are you doing tonight? Bonnie and Silver want you to come to hog-out.”

I peer down at my phone, knowing that the unknown number must have replied, only when I read the text that’s on my phone, my eyes fly to Wicked.

You’re staring at him.

How did Wicked get my number and does Royce know?

“Ah, I can’t. I have work. What’s a hog-out?”

“Work?” Royce’s face scrunches. “Since the fuck when do our parents let you work? It’s a BBQ, Jade.”

“She’s lying,” Wicked says, his eyes on mine.

“Am not,” I snap at Wicked. “Every Saturday, I work for our parents. What?” I shuffle uncomfortably. It’s not ideal having them both in my space, especially when I’m trying to contain the biggest secret I’ve ever held, and Wicked is too smart. Shit. Am I already showing my cards? I square my shoulders. “I run numbers for him and in return, they’re giving me all of this.”

Royce’s eyes narrow as he swipes his hand over his lips. His hair is messy, his eyes dark. “Makes no sense, Duchess. You have a trust account. You don’t need to work for all this.”

Fuck.

I shrug, falling onto my soft mattress. “Doesn’t have to make sense for it to be true.”

“What time do you finish?” he asks, standing back to his feet. “I need to put one of the brothers on you.”

“What?” I say, scowling up at him. “What do you mean you need to put one of them on me?”

Royce glares. “It means I need to make sure someone knows where you are at all times.”

“Why!” I snap. “Royce, I just started a new college, you haven’t been a part of my life in forever, and now suddenly you’re all over me like a rash.”

He laughs, but the chilling sound is like fire has being ignited down my spine. His legs hit my bed, his hands around my thighs, pulling me down while pinning my hands above my head with his.

“Royce,” I urge, flashing to Wicked. “Really.”

He turns to look over his shoulder to see Wicked. “Oh, what? him? You don’t have to worry about Wicked.”

I clench my teeth shut.

“I’m not all over you, Jade, I’m trying to make sure that you don’t fucking die, and that’s not because I give a fuck about your existence, that’s because I don’t want to turn Mom into an even worse alcoholic than what she is.”

“Oh yeah?” I say, a flash of anger washing over me. “Then what was that speech about last night when you were all ‘who hurt you, Jade. Tell me, Jade. I would go to jai—’” His hand is at my throat, his fingers flexing to cut off my rant.

He leans down, his mouth on my ear. “Say the next words and see what fucking happens.”

I lean up, my nose touching his, eyes crossed from his proximity. “You—” His tongue slides across my mouth and my insides solidify, either from shock or sheer emotion. Probably a combination of both.

Royce chuckles, pushing up from the bed. “Since I can’t beat you and then fuck you—in that order—I’ll just have to lick you every time you want to open that fucking mouth. Slim will be on your tail,” he says, heading for the exit. “So don’t do anything fucking stupid.” When he opens the door, my eyes find Wicked.

For a second, it’s just he and I. He stands, towering over my small frame. “You’re lying. He knows it, but thinks he doesn’t care right now, but Jade, when he finds out whatever it is that you’re hiding, it’s going to be catastrophic, so do me a favor.”

I pause, peering up at him from under my lashes.

“Don’t fucking tell him.” Then he turns and heads for the door. Blowing out a breath of air, I fall back on my bed, confusion warping my vision. I wouldn’t tell Royce anything anyway, but the problem with that is that Royce and I usually pick up on each other’s feelings. We were linked from birth, and I fear that the more time we spend around one another, the quicker our souls are figuring that out.

I open the text to Wicked.

Me: Does he know you’re texting me?

It’s probably a stupid question, but I have to know. I can’t read Wicked or the vibe that he sends out, but I also don’t think he’d do anything to upset Royce either. I can’t believe I’m going to say it, but I think they’re even closer than Royce is, or was, to Orson and Storm. Storm and I still keep in contact occasionally, but not so much Orson. He’s all famous and rich, and living his best life in Hollywood Hills with India, but I know that if I turn up on his doorstep, or need anything, he’s still the brother I grew to love. I wonder if Royce keeps in contact with them both, bet he does.

My phone sounds off in my hand and I open the text.

Wicked: No.

I read over the word again. And then again. Maybe I read him wrong, or maybe whatever it is that is going on between Wicked and I is completely platonic. I don’t know what to write back, so I put my phone down and pull out my textbooks, flipping through the pages.