Page 69 of Sweet Oblivion

He’d cheated on me, with Lindsay. Humiliated me in front of everyone. Tears filled my eyes.

“I can’t.”

“All right.”

“I…I need to go.” I looked around wildly. “I came in with Hugh.”

Cam frowned. “I haven’t seen him, but I was trying to get the doctor to tell me something. I’ll have Chuck drive you.”

I must have nodded, and somehow I got to the car with Chuck. As he drove me home, my phone beeped. Dread pooled in my belly, and I whimpered. I wasn’t strong enough to look—to see the words. Nash was dead. Chuck slid into my driveway and side-eyed me.

“Would you…” I held out my phone.

His big paw touched mine, our fingers brushing. “Need the passcode.”

I rattled it off. He opened the app and bit out a low curse.

I snatched the phone from his hand and read the text: He’s mine now.

I gaped at the photos of Nash wrapped around Lindsay at the party. Below those were a bunch of links to various social media sites. All of them noted that Nash had dumped me because I was too nerdy, too ugly, or no fun.

Chuck laid his hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t right.”

“This is exactly what he chose,” I said. My tears dried as I stiffened my spine. “Be sure to tell Cam I’m no longer part of Nash’s world. Thanks for the ride.”

I exited the vehicle, ignoring Chuck’s glower. I headed inside to more notifications. Hundreds of them, all piling on about how I’d never deserved Nash, how I wasn’t good enough.

I turned off my phone and sank to the tile floor. Mrs. Ombly found me there sometime later and helped me up to my bed. I huddled there the rest of the night, not sleeping, unseeing, hating Nash Porter for making me love him.

28

Nash

Lindsay had doped me up on a breath-mint strip of N-BOMe, which was as potent as methamphetamine and LSD, combined. I was lucky, the doctors said, that she hadn’t killed me.

I’d learned that my aggression toward her was a common side effect of the chemicals flowing through me. After such a strong reaction, the doctors had expected me to seize, maybe even go into organ failure. But I hadn’t—in part because of the Narcan and sedatives they’d administered to counteract the drug. I’d been pumped with fluids and my vitals monitored all that night and into the next day.

Now, two days after Lindsay’s sick prank, I still felt weak and shaky, but mostly I was pissed that Aya wasn’t answering my calls.

It was like she’d fallen off a cliff, and I’d been stuck in this bed, unable to search for her. That ended now.

Steve told me my mother was on her way to see me. I stared at him for a long moment, then shook my head.

“I don’t want to see her.”

“She’s worried—”

“Then she should have been around the last couple of years,” I snapped.

Steve clenched his jaw .

“I’m serious. I don’t want to see her.”

“I’ll let her know,” he muttered before stepping out of the room.

I looked up as Cam and Chuck stepped in, followed by Mama Grace. She scooted around the men and fluffed my pillows, fussing over me. I smiled at her, but my eyes darted back to the door, looking for Aya.

“She’s not here,” Cam said. He frowned, his brows tugging low over his nose. “She came yesterday, but she fell apart at the ICU doors.”

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