Page 46 of Shadow Dance

Everything else disappears. My heart somersaults, and I go to him.

Callum shifts on his stomach,snoring. It’s a new development. I think it has something to do with the abuse inflicted upon his nose.

I stare at the ceiling, head pounding, and tumble back into my thoughts. I managed to drink myself into a stupor last night, forcing Jaime to leave his slutty little vampire at the club so he could carry me to the car. One, because it was his job and two, because Callum was three sheets to the wind himself. But the satisfaction was short-lived. Jaimehadto do it. He was paid to do it. And if he’d had his way, I’m betting he’d have been all up in that girl.

When I puked on the way home, I let the guys think it was from the alcohol alone.

Callum got new blackout curtains for the bedroom. They’re great for facilitating sleep, but they do their jobs a little too well. Like right now, it’s past eleven in the morning, but in here, it’s so dark it could still be night. Hauling myself out of bed, I pull on a fleece sweatshirt and head for the kitchen, desperate for hydration.

After gulping down two glasses of water, I pop a Tylenol and turn on the coffee pot. As much as I’d love some of Jaime’s special coffee, I doubt he feels like talking to me right now. Not after last night’s messy behavior.

Wandering into the living room, I gaze out at the lush green hillside. It’s hazy today, the sun playing peek-a-boo with the clouds, but I can make out the pale blue bay in the distance. For all of the shitty things that’ve happened here, this house has also been a source of peace and comfort. When I’m alone, at least.

Pouring myself a double cup of coffee, I venture onto the patio and curl up on the chaise lounge. I probably could’ve put on something warmer, but the brisk, fresh air feels good. Miles away, the Bay Bridge hovers in the fog. I think about the people traveling over it, wondering where they’re going.

My stomach flutters when the door to the guest house opens. Jaime appears a few feet away, his large hands cupped around a mug of his own. He looks sleepy, his hair tousled and messy, and I imagine what it would be like to wake up next to him.

Nausea washes over me, and it’s not just the hangover. If Callum knew the thoughts that I have, he’d kill Jaime, and he might kill me. Still, I can’t deny that I like Jaime way more than I ever meant to, and I resent that I can’t have him. It’s a constant battle, my head and my heart at war.

But then I remember him smiling at that blonde and I resent that he’s as screwed up as the rest of them, even if he does have way more finesse.

“Did you just wake up too?” I ask when it doesn’t seem like Jaime’s going to say anything.

“No, I’ve been up for a while.” He takes a sip of coffee. “How are you doing? You were pretty messed up last night.”

I tuck my kneesin, cringing at the blurry memories of tequila and jealousy followed by making Griff pull over so I could vomit on the side of the road. Jaime would’ve been right behind us in his car, so I can just imagine what he thought. “I’m sorry,” I say in a small voice. Seems like once again, I’ve become someone I loathe.

Jaime glances at his phone. “You feeling okay today?”

“I feel like shit,” I mutter. “How about you?”

“I’m fine. I didn’t drink that much last night,” he says.

“Oh.” I nod, feeling as if I’ve failed him somehow. “That’s good.”

“Well.” He takes another sip of coffee. “I know how hard Cal and the guys go. I thought I might have to take you home.”

I narrow my eyes, a thought occurring to me. “Why didn’t you? Griff drank a lot last night—he can’t have been in a good condition to drive.”

“None of them were, but Callum insisted that you ride with him.” Jaime’s voice is light, but his face is hard as he turns to go back inside.

The reality of how stupid we were last night hits me hard. I gulp down my coffee, relishing the way it scalds my throat.

“I’m guessing no class today, right?” he calls.

I glance back over my shoulder, shaking my head. I hadn’t even thought about class.

Callum isin a demonic mood when he comes out of the bedroom, crashing around the house like an angry bear. I’m still on the patio, staying out of his way while I chat with Bria on the phone, when he yells for me.

Rolling my eyes, I retrieve my coffee mug from the ground and stand up, stretching. “Listen, I gotta go,” I tell Bria. “Give the fam my love.”

I find Callum in the kitchen, bleary-eyed but freshly showered. “Hey. Do you know where my keys are?”

“They’re not by the front door?”

“If they were, I wouldn’t be asking.”

Swallowing the urge to tell him where he can shove his keys—when he finds them—I put my mug on the counter and leave the kitchen.

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