Page 10 of Twisted Desire
“Hey, Sky?” Nikolai asks.
I lean back into the car. “Nikolai,” I level.
“What were you dreaming about?”
I freeze, the tempo of my pulse picking up. “What?”
“You kept making these noises as if you were scared of something.” He glances at his lap. “I wanted to wake you, but the others said we should let you sleep.”
“It’s fine.” My muscles are no longer stiff from being in the car. Now they’re rigid with the memory of Sebastian. It’s not something I’m willing to get into, especially not now—and not with Nikolai.I haven’t thought about him, much less dreamed about him, in a long time, so why the hell is it happening now?
He frowns. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“No, Nikolai, I’m not.” He doesn’t need to know about my shitty past relationship. It’s not something I’m going to waste any time discussing with him. The last thing I want is pity. I know the look he’d give me if he knew, and I don’t ever want to see it on his face when he looks at me.
Before either of us can say anything else, the others walk out of the rest stop building and head toward the car. Seth laughs at something Kelsey says, and she tugs on his tied back white-blonde hair until he swats her hand away. Allison hops onto Oliver’s back, wrapping her jean-clad legs around his waist and resting her chin on top of his head. She closes her eyes against the bright sky, and in that moment, as her blonde hair catches the sun, she looks strikingly like Aurora. Weirdly enough, it makes my chest feel tight.
You miss her because you miss Tristan.
Oliver’s tall, lanky frame looks at ease carrying Allison. His sand-colored curls bounce with each step, and I come to the conclusion that he’s in serious need of a haircut. Not really important in the grand scheme of things we’ve got going on, but still.
The group piles back into the car, making it smell like coffee and deep-fried food. I wrinkle my nose at the handful of brown bags Oliver has in his lap.
“Did you leave any carbs for the other patrons?”
Smiling, he says, “Don’t worry, Skylar. I’ll share my fries with you.”
I stare at him. “Oh, thank god. I was so worried I’d go without.”
“Ready?” Allison checks after everyone is back in their seats and all the doors are shut. When no one speaks up, she turns the key in the ignition, and we’re off again.
4
It’s just after one in the afternoon when we pull off the highway. We drive through the quaint-looking city for almost ten minutes before Allison slows and turns into an apartment complex. Right off the bat, I’m impressed. This place is nice. The exterior is a dark-gray with black accents. It’s about five stories high and could be brand new for how pristine both the building and the landscaping around it looks. For someone so young, I’d be a little surprised she could afford it if I didn’t know whose sister she was. From what Max used to say about her, she’s driven, but her passion for painting doesn’t pay much. He often sent her money, wanting to make sure she was able to pursue her dreams without having to worry about finances. After he died, Tristan made sure she’d be able to continue living as she always had. At this fancy-ass apartment building.
“I think I should go upstairs first,” Allison says, turning around to look at the rest of us.
I arch a brow at her. “Why?”
“Because if we all show up at her door at once, she’s bound to get overwhelmed.”
“She knows we’re coming,” Kelsey comments, closing her magazine and dropping it on the floor with the stack of others before tying back her auburn curls.
“Yeah, but still.” Allison shrugs. “I’m just thinking about her. She hasn’t seen any of us since her brother...”
“Fine,” I cut in. “Go.”
She gets out of the car, jogging toward the building. The front door slides open, and she disappears inside.
“So, we’re going to sit here until she comes back?” Oliver asks.
“Yep,” I answer, “pretty much.” This isn’t how I wanted to start off this mission, sitting on my ass in the parking lot of my dead best friend’s sister’s apartment, but here we are.
Twenty minutes later, my phone chimes with a text from Allison giving us the okay to come upstairs.
“Let’s go,” I tell the group. We climb out of the car and head inside. The lobby is just as fancy as the exterior of the building. Not as posh as the Westbrook Hotel, but still a five-star accommodation.
If the group of us heading for the elevators looks out of place, no passerby says anything. We get on, ride to the third floor, and stop in front of Monica’s door.
