Flock (The Ravenhood #1)(92)

Calling for a simple proof of life check for the sake of my sanity would have been the next step if I didn’t see several cars outside of the garage, including the two owned by the men I came to seek answers from.

Hood business. All of the last few days had to have been filled with it because the parking lot is more crowded than ever. Virginia is here, so is Alabama. But it’s not a meetup. That was last week, which means there won’t be another one for at least two. Unless something is really wrong.

Exiting my car in sheer panic, I feel the boom of bass and can’t help my relieved grin when I hear the mood on the other side of the door—voices mixed with laughter.

They’re okay. You’re okay.

I have to believe that hood business is what’s kept them away because the alternative is too painful. I haven’t let myself dwell on that. Nothing about our last interaction indicated that was even a possibility. But if they’re ghosting me, I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of doing it without an explanation—especially after how close Sean and I have become this summer both as friends and lovers. And Dominic, well, I can’t even pinpoint which feelings exist due to lust or intrigue or the culmination of both but that last night we spent together, it was love I felt, that I wanted to admit.

Because I truly love them both.

And if they’re okay, I’m okay.

Gnawing fear eats at me as I approach the door with shaky resolve. It’s when I reach it, that I hear the out of place melody blaring through the garage and I know they were expecting me.

“Afternoon Delight” carries through the air, out of the doors as my chest churns and dread fills the pit of my stomach.

It’s a joke. It has to be. And it’s not funny. I’ll find a way to punish Sean for this.

Standing at the door of the lobby and looking into the bay, I see it’s business as usual with the addition of several guests. My guys crowd around the pool table, cutting up, beers in hand as they pass a joint around. Sean watches Dominic take a shot at the table, refusing to look up. He knows I’m here. I’d changed after work and am dressed to impress in his favorite red sundress. My lips painted to match. I stand, a beacon waiting for some sort of acknowledgment as they chatter on and a few heads I don’t recognize turn my way. When the next song begins to play just as I step through the threshold, my fight for attention quickly shifts to my threatening nausea.

It’s then I know why Sean is keeping his eyes down. He doesn’t want to watch the dagger he’s slowly pushing into my chest.

“Cecilia” by Simon and Garfunkel begins to play as the door slams behind me, securing my place in the trap.

Every word of the song like a slap to the face.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

But it is. The song, the lyrics, the out of place melody pierces me as my heart rages in my chest, continually slamming into the crumbling barrier, begging to be set free, for a destination anywhere but here. Tears burn my eyes as I watch the two men I came for blatantly ignore me, as more heads begin to turn my way.

Dominic is hunched over the table, taking his shot as Sean stands in the corner, his hands wrapped around his pool stick as Tyler whispers in his ear, his eyes on mine, a smile on his dimpled face. He doesn’t know.

But Sean does, and so does Dominic.

The rest of the party huddles around the kegs, oblivious to the fucking knife slicing through me. Dominic takes the shot, before finally, he looks directly at me, a smug smirk playing on his lips.

Lumps of betrayal clog my throat, choking me as that smirk brands me with the scarlet letter, turning all our dirty deeds against me.

Drowning in deceit, I sink further and further where I stand, fighting the bile climbing up my throat while drifting into the wave of despair.

Neck on fire, my heart screams for mercy, beat after painful beat against my chest as Sean finally lifts his eyes to look at me.

That’s when I break, utterly humiliated and completely taken aback by the second faces of the men I’ve fallen so in love with. Each lyric turns every beautiful moment we shared into one of my degradation.

I’ve been played.

I let them in.

I let them use me.

I convinced myself it was real.

That they cared.

I thought it was love.

But I was a game to them.

They set me up, lifted me as high as I could fly only to watch me fall.

I don’t realize I’m sobbing until I can no longer see them, but blurred versions of the men I gave my heart—my trust to—as black streaks my cheeks. And maybe it’s best that I don’t, so I can erase the old images with these new ones, replace the everything I felt with the nothing they’ve left me with.

They’d made me feel safe, accepted.

I loved them wholly.

I gave myself to them, and they let me…

One by one, heads slowly turn my way. And little by little, I realize I’ve gathered the attention of the entire garage. Face hot, sobs bursting from me. I slam my eyes shut, willing the moment away, hellfire in my heart, the damning, the branding, the judgment.

I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, to look up, to move. I can’t breathe through this betrayal, through the ache in my heart, through the pain searing through me.

I’m that girl. The girl I swore I would never be. The fool I promised myself I’d never be again.