Page 47 of Royal
We haven’t talked since you busted up my face.
Nope. You’re right. We haven’t.
Fucker. I can’t tell if you’re still pissed.
I’m on my way home. Are you there?
A minute or so goes by before the little dots on my screen signal a message being typed on the other end.
Beck, what the fuck are you up to?
Tell you when I get back.
I rub a few fingers over my mouth, studying what’s going on in the kitchen at the back of the house. The other woman has been in and out of the fridge like four times, pulling out the makings of what looks like a roast beef and cheese sandwich, while Echo is stooped down picking up some toys off the floor.
I grin.Hey.I had a dinosaur just like the stuffed one she tosses into the box.
There’s nothing crazy going on here. Time to head back to SIN and report in with Royal. I haven’t a fucking clue why I feel I owe him that after he smashed up my face… or if he’ll be pissed that I followed Echo after what happened last night. And the fucked-up part is that he has no idea what went down in there. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to add fuel to the rampaging fire.
The question is whether Royal has correctly guessed what went on in Miss Echo Madden’s bedroom or not. There’s a chance that whatever he’s imagined is worse than it really was. But what was I supposed to have done? Lay it all out after he’d already freaked the fuck out just from seeing me exit her room? There’s no way he would have handled it well if I told him what I’d had the pleasure of witnessing. But now he’s made all sorts of assumptions that are killing him. Is what he’s conjured up worse than what I did? There’s no telling what’s in his head. Fuck, if he knew I’d beenthisclose to whipping it out and stroking myself in time to her moans and sighs, he’d probably kill me. But he couldn’t possibly understand. I look at Echo and all I see is her beckoning to me. With every second I’m near her, she buries herself deeper inside me.
I shudder out a breath, my mind shifting to the man who has me twisted up in a completely different way. He’s elusive—one minute, he’s right there with me and the next, slipping away. He was none too happy that he had to step in to break up that brawl. I cover my masked face with my hands, breathing deeply, trying to make sense of where I stand with him. Because I don’t like it when he doesn’t talk to me. We’ve been close—even just as friends—for a long time, so I know from past experience that he has a habit of pulling back when he’s upset about something. We already weren’t in a great place before he had to jump into the middle of that fight. I still haven’t figured out what the hell is going on in his head.
But… his whispered words as he held me in his arms have stuck with me for a full twenty-four hours.I hate that he hurt you. But I get why he’s upset. I’d mess up someone if I saw them coming out your window.
He has feelings for me. But there’s something that’s making him withdraw. I have to get to the bottom of it before I lose him for good.
* * *
Ten minutes or so later,I enter Sigma Iota Nu to find Dan and Wyatt arm wrestling and swearing at each other over the kitchen island.
“Anyone seen Royal or Wilder?” I ask as I get into the fridge for a bottle of water.
Dan looks up, growling when it gives Wyatt the advantage and he finds the back of his hand smashed down to the counter. Wyatt shouts in victory, jumping from his seat.
“Fuck. You made me lose.” Dan heaves out a harsh breath, eyeing me like that might be the end of me.
I hold up both hands. “Sorry. No harm intended.”
He narrows his eyes again, then nods toward the stairs. “Darts, I think.”
I should have checked there first. Speaking of bull’s-eyes, I definitely don’t need a target on my back courtesy of an accidental arm-wrestling interruption. Especially not if it’s Dan that’ll be coming after me. Fuck. No thanks. The guy’s a brute.
Jogging down the stairs, I can hear thethwap, thwap, thwapof three darts embedding themselves into the dart board in rapid succession.
Wilder inspects where they landed as he pulls them free. “I’ve almost got you. Better not fuck up.”
Royal rises from the stool he was perched on, darts in hand. He’s about to respond when he spots me. He whirls, and before I can even process what he’s done, a dart flies right past my face, plunging into the wall behind me.
Stunned, I blink at him, but Wilder is in Royal’s face in a flash. He tears the other two darts from his hand. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Royal rolls his eyes. “If I meant to hit him, I would have. I have better aim than that, and you know it.”
“What if he’d moved, you asshole?” Wilder’s explosion into fury is typically unparalleled and impressive, and honestly kinda warranted.
The two of them are busy staring each other down as I glance back at the wall and pluck the dart out. Taking a deep breath, I throw it at the board. Bull’s-eye.
Wilder lets out a huffed breath, then returns the rest of the darts to their container before sitting down on the couch in front of the TV and running his hands over his face. I hear his mumbled, “Fuck,” as he groans into them.
