By the time we make it back to the townhouse, night has draped itself over the sky, blotting out all the light except a speckling of stars and the artificial glow in the windows along the street.
Jacob parks out front in the usual spot. As the guys open the doors, laughter drifts out through the living room window of the townhouse next door, which they’ve left partly open to enjoy the warm early autumn air.
I scoot along the back seat and clamber out, discovering when I set down my feet that the poison in my system has been gnawing its way deeper again. A prickling jolt races up the legs I haven’t used in a few hours, and I lurch to the side.
My hand slams against the side of the car to catch my balance. I take a breath and steady my body before starting forward again.
The prickles pinch at my muscles all the way up to my hips and dig into my gut. I don’t like asking him, because there’s something about the process he obviously doesn’t like, but I think I’m going to need to get Dominic to work his healing skill on me again sometime tonight.
I roll my shoulders and walk a little stiffly to the front steps, uncomfortably aware of how Zian has hung back near me and the other guys are waiting for me rather than going on in. Not because they’re concerned about my well-being, but because they still see me as a potential threat to be monitored.
Well, Andreas is actually concerned. He catches my gaze and offers a sympathetic grimace.
I’ve just gripped the railing next to the stairs when the door on the other side of the lane opens, letting the buoyant voices spill out louder. Brooke emerges. She trots down the steps with a little wave and strides right over to us.
“Hey!” she says, taking all five of us in with a glance, and then focuses on me. “I’m glad I caught you, Rita. I was really hoping I could talk with you for a sec.”
I push my lips into a smile as I pray to whatever higher powers might or might not exist that I can improv my way through the unexpected conversation. “Sure. What’s up?”
That’s what college-student-type people say to their friends, right?
With a flick of her gaze toward the guys poised around me, she purses her lips and tilts her head toward the lane. “Just the two of us, away from the street? It’s kind of… private. Girl stuff.”
She shoots another, more pointed look at the guys.
Jacob frowns, but he knows how weird it’d look if my supposed roommates start dictating whether I can even talk to another person without their presence.
Andreas speaks up for all of them, with a casual motion of his hand toward the back of the buildings. “Go have your girl talk.”
The guys troop inside as if it’s no big deal, but my nerves creep as I follow Brooke down the lane to the small patios that border the alley behind the townhouses. I have no doubt at all that Zian is following my movements through the wall. Most likely Jacob will keep watch surreptitiously from one of the back windows as well.
As if I’m going to be plotting their downfall with a history student who’s probably never encountered anything more dangerous than an A minus.
Brooke stops by the patios and leans against the wooden fence that borders her townhouse’s. It’s even darker back here beyond the reach of the streetlamps, just a couple of dim security lights illuminating the alley.
She pushes her hair back behind her ears and studies me. “I get that you might not be ready to talk about this yet. It might be hard to even think about it. But I want you to know that if you decide you need help, you can reach out to me, and I’ll do whatever I can.”
I stare at her, too bewildered to gather my words for a moment. Shecan’tbe referring to any of the things I’d actually need help with, so what the hell is she talking about?
“I don’t know what you mean,” I manage after an awkwardly long silence.
Brooke’s mouth tightens. “Look, I’ve been there before. This guy I dated for a year in high school—I know what it looks like. How it feels. You might not want to believe it, but the way they’re treating you isn’t okay.”
She’s talking about my guys—what exactly has she noticed? A chill tickles through me.
“I’m not dating any of them. And nothing’s wrong.”
Brooke drops her voice. “It is, though. They don’t ever seem to let you out of their sight. They didn’t even want you to come talk to me—I could tell. They expect you to do whatever they say, I bet.”
“It’s not like that,” I say quickly. “We’re just—we’re all new here. We rely on each other.”
She knits her brow. “And what happens when you don’t go along with what they expect? Sometimes it looks like you’re trying not to limp, and those scars on your arms… I don’t want to get you in trouble with them, but you’ve got to realize that’s not normal. That’s not how anyone who cares about you should act.”
As she’s spoken, my stomach’s gotten so twisted up it probably looks like a pretzel now.Shecares, clearly. Way more than someone who’s only had a few brief occasions to get to know me really should.
But she’s obviously more compassionate than the average person—and sharper-eyed. I don’t know how to explain the things she’s observed in any way that could make sense given what she’d be willing to believe.
I have to try anyway. I don’t want her stressing out over my situation when she doesn’t need to—and it’s better for us if she thinks everything’s fine over here.