Broken Compass Page 26

  It’s about to get so much worse.

  The apartment door is slightly open, but I don’t pay it that much attention. Grandpa often leaves it open when he comes home, and fuck, I hope he didn’t lose all his money playing cards today, or he’ll be in a hell of a mood.

  He’s been playing—and losing—a lot more lately, and there’s this worry at the back of my mind that one day he won’t have money for the rent. Della doesn’t work. Never has. It’s time I got a job. After all, I’m almost done with school.

  Maybe I’ll move away, to another city, another town, far from here.

  I entertain the notion for a few pleasant moments, but discard it as I step through the door. I know I can’t leave. It’s the same reason that kept me here, preventing me from following Nate, Syd and Kash the first time.

  “Grandpa?” I call out. The living room is empty. “I’m gonna make dinner. You there?”

  The quiet is … complete. It’s unnerving. I cross the room, and stop, hit by the thought that someone else may be inside, and not Grandpa.

  Someone like Nate’s dad.

  Er, shit? From the few things I’ve gathered about Nate’s dad, I should be running away.

  But I’m strangely calm. After the panic that held me all afternoon, ever since Nate walked out, it’s as if my body can’t muster any more adrenaline. Besides, what if Grandpa or Della are in there, too?

  I look around for a potential weapon and grab a heavy vase from the table. Armed with that, I step toward the bedrooms and open Grandpa’s bedroom door.

  Empty. His bed is unmade, the covers twisted. Empty bottles lining the wall.

  Feeling slightly ridiculous with the vase in my hands, I shrug and move on. I check my bedroom—empty—and finally kick at Della’s bedroom door and enter, just to make sure.

  I blink.

  My breath is stuck in my lungs. My blood starts pounding so hard in my ears I can hear no other sound, even as the vase slips from my hand and crashes to the floor, shattering to pieces.

  Della. She’s lying on the floor, body curled in, dark hair fanning around her face. Her face is still and gray. The room stinks of vomit and piss, and something else, something terrible.

  No.

  I’m a kid again. It’s a déjà vu from many years ago, when I found her just like this, on the floor.

  But she’d been alive then. She’d made it. Judging from the way her chest is so still… I think this time she’s dead.

  I eventually move forward, when all I want is to leave, get as far away from this room as possible. Hide.

  I make myself approach her, my sister, kneel by her side, avoiding the puddles of vomit and piss, and check for a pulse. Check in case I’m mistaken and she’s alive.

  No pulse. I can’t feel a fucking pulse. Or a breath from her mouth. Her skin is cold. Icy. I doubt CPR would help her now.

  She’s… she’s so cold. I sit back on my ass, on the floor, my hands clenching. Breathe, West, I tell myself. Fucking breathe.

  I should call an ambulance.

  Or the police.

  What the fuck should I do? What does one do?

  A shadow fills the door and I jerk back. But it’s only Grandpa. “She’s… dead,” I whisper, needing him to say something, put me right, tell me I’m wrong.

  “She is.” His face is set in harsh, angry lines. “Dead and gone.”

  “You…” I frown. Nothing makes sense. “Did you… do this? Did you kill her?” I can’t get enough air. My lungs don’t want to work.

  “Me? You killed her. You weren’t here, like always. Like last time. You let her die.” The sneer in his voice, on his face, his godfucking words stab me deep. They’re killing me. “Your fault.”

  “I just… I went for a walk.”

  “And see what you did?” He’s panting, too. “I told her you were a bad idea, but she kept you. She wanted to have you. Regretted it later.”

  “What are you talking about?” I have trouble breathing, trouble hearing. Maybe I’m having a heart attack. “Grandpa.”

  “Told her I didn’t want you. I’m not even sure you’re mine. She slept around. She’s a slut.”

  “My… my sister?”

  “She’s not your fucking sister.” He’s sinking down to the floor, clutching at his arm. Something’s wrong there, but I can’t make myself move, or think.

  Not my sister.

  She’s my mother?

  “Oh, come on, stop looking at me like that. I’m not your fucking grandfather, and she’s not your fucking sister. Deal with it. You fucked up our lives from the day you were born.”

  “But when you took her… you took her on vacation, you took her…”

  “To cheap motels. She didn’t want to fuck here, not with you around. Oh damn, I don’t feel so good.”

  He doesn’t look good either, but I’m too busy freaking out. My stomach cramps, pushing me to bend over and throw up. Fuck, fuck. This can’t be happening, all this… it’s a nightmare. Has to be.

  “Call… an ambulance,” Grandpa is wheezing, only he’s not my grandpa. Who the hell is he? Is he even related to me?

  He’s an old geezer who’s been fucking my sister. Only she’s not my sister.

  She’s my mom.

  Was.

  What the fuck is this, what do I do? What do I think? Oh fuck… Black starts to eat at my sight. I throw up again, emptying my stomach until there’s nothing left in me.

  By the time I’m done, the blackness has swallowed me whole.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Nate

  Sydney slept with West.

  I overheard her telling Kash about it, and I wish I hadn’t. I wish it wasn’t true.

  She slept with him, with West, my best friend, the one I just decided to trust again. He lied to me. By omission, but lied nevertheless. All that talk about helping me get Sydney, offering that I practice on him, that kiss…

  That fucking hot kiss, goddammit, the one I shouldn’t be thinking about still.

  And all the while he knew he’d slept with her.

  Not to mention that Sydney told all this to Kash, not to me. She also slept with him, but at least I knew that. Not because she told me.

  What am I supposed to think? Or do? What is she playing at? I knew from the start she was attracted to West, and Kash, but I was naïve enough to think she’d choose me.

  That she’d chosen me.

  How fucking stupid of me.

  And then I think of how she crawled into bed with me last night, waking me up from my nightmares, how she put her arms around me and talked to me softly about her day until I went back to sleep, and my anger cools.

  Still, though. West. Kash owes me nothing—hell, I owe him—but West’s betrayal cuts deep. Why didn’t he tell me? If he wants Sydney, why hasn’t he fought me for her?

  I’m just so fucking pissed that I actually flirt back when Molly the blond trainer hits on me again, and then Sydney shows up at the gym, out of the blue.

  Sydney. What is she doing here? I stare at her red curls, her familiar curves, but I don’t pull away from Molly, not yet. I keep up the pretense long enough for Sydney to see.

  I’m an asshole, I know. But just for a moment, it feels good to see Sydney’s face fall, her pretty eyes darken as she notices my hand on Molly’s arm on top of the front desk, her head bent close to mine.

  And I realize I can’t go through with it any longer. I promise Molly to meet her for drinks, though I have no plan of following through, and watch her as she sways her way to the back of the gym, looking very satisfied.

  “Nate.” Sydney is marching up to me, eyes blazing and red hair streaming, her green tank top cut low enough I see the swells of her tits. “Seriously?”

  Jesus, man, she’s so sexy when she’s pissing mad.

  “Seriously, what?” I pretend not to know what she’s talking about. “What are you doing here?”

  “You have a girlfriend?” she demands, placing her hands on the desk, those small h
ands with the squarish nails painted red that held me last night.

  I just look at her.

  “Oh my God, really?” She glances the way Molly has gone. “When were you going to tell me?”

  My fingers curl over the desk, tightening into fists. “What are you doing here, Syd?”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Well, you found me. Talk.”

  Anger still sparks in her pretty eyes, but pain is a shadow darkening her gaze. “I wanted to tell you that me and West…” She swallows, the flush on her cheeks deepening, and hell if it doesn’t make me wanna push her against the wall and kiss her senseless, shove up her blouse and lick her tits, push aside her panties and sink into her. “We just…”

  “You fucked.” My fury and my arousal are one and the same. I can’t pull them apart. I can’t decide if I’m angrier that she fucked West, or that he fucked her. That I saw her with Kash, or that I saw Kash with her. Damn. “Say it, Syd. You fucked like bunnies. And why do you think I give a shit? Go back. He may be missing you.”

  “Don’t do this, Nate. And we didn’t fuck. I wanted to tell you—”

  “But you didn’t tell me. You slept with West. And Kash. And came close to sleeping with me. Yeah, I know about West. I overheard you last night telling Kash.”

  “So you went and got yourself a girlfriend? Or, wait. How long have you been going out with her?”

  Suddenly my small act of revenge feels too heavy to bear. “I haven’t, Syd. She’s not my girlfriend. But it doesn’t matter. We can’t be together. You know it.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  Shit, she’s still pissed.

  Still sexy as all fuck.

  “You want West. And Kash. Not me.”

  “I need you all. You, West, Kash.”

  I’m not even sure what she’s saying. Not sure what to say, either. I need the guys, too, but are we talking about the same thing here? Are we talking about friendship, or lust, or what exactly? It makes my head hurt.

  “You can’t,” I tell her, making my voice harsh, cruel, because I don’t know what to say. “You can’t have it all, Syd. You can’t have us all. You need to choose.”

  But even as I say it I’m afraid of what might happen if she does.

  “I can’t…” she whispers.

  “Can’t what?”

  “Can’t cut my heart into pieces. Why can’t I love all of you?”

  “You can’t,” I whisper, and there’s a lump in my throat that won’t let me breathe.

  “My mom,” she says, and I still, because Syd never talks about her mom, the mom she waited for and who never came back. “My mom went through many men, changed them every month like toothbrushes. I don’t even know which one of them was my dad. She’d fall in love, and then switch, and follow another guy. Spinning around, like a weather vane, like a broken compass, turning this way and then that. Undecided.”

  “Syd…”

  “I’m not like that, Nate. I’m not broken. Undecided. I know what my heart wants. My mom couldn’t love me. She didn’t have enough love in her for more than one person at a time. But I do. I have enough. You made me fall in love with you, all three of you. Love isn’t a road. It’s a country. It’s a universe. You are my stars, and I’m lost without you.”

  What can I say to that? Nothing. And it’s not because of how sad I am for her, or upset that she loves all of us—but because I feel all her pain, and I’d be lost without all three of them, too.

  The gym closes at ten PM, and I grab my stuff to go home, calling out goodbyes to the guys. Molly approaches me, probably to go out for that drink, but I evade her, giving her the excuse of a headache.

  It’s not a lie, but yeah, pretending to be interested in front of Sydney was an asshole move I vow not to repeat ever again.

  The one I want is Sydney. And I want to keep West and Kash near me. This is my family, the people I give a fuck for. What Sydney said, about needing us all, I understand that. Deep in my gut, I want that.

  Thing is, I don’t know how one gets away with it. Guy gets girl, girl gets guy. Guys have friends, bros. If Sydney chooses one of us to be her boyfriend, can the rest of us stay friends? This situation is already putting a rift between us. But she says she doesn’t want to choose, so how does that work?

  That’s when I realize my feet aren’t taking me to the bus stop to go home but leading me toward our old building.

  Toward West.

  What am I doing?

  But all these things festering in my chest, the question why he didn’t tell me about wanting Syd, about touching her… I have to talk to him.

  Sighing, I pull out my phone to give him a call, see if he’s in, and find some missed calls from him, and from Kash. I’d turned the volume on low while at work and didn’t hear the ring.

  Kash also sent me a text message. I click on it, curious—guy never calls or texts me.

  ‘Need to talk to you about West,’ it reads.

  Yeah, well. This would’ve been cryptic as fuck under any other circumstances, but I know already what he wants to tell me.

  Yeah, Syd slept with West, got it.

  Fuckers.

  My head throbs in time to my steps, my blood pounding in my ears. Fuck this. Fuck calling. I start to jog, all this anger, this confusion needing an outlet. I break into a run, racing down the street, threading through side streets and passages.

  How can I give up on Syd?

  Or West, or Kash? They keep me sane, they are all I have. How can I make this puzzle whole without losing the rest of my sanity?

  Someone is sitting on the steps outside the building as I come around the corner. What are the odds? It’s West, sitting on the top step, staring ahead, his face blank.

  Something feels wrong, but I’m too amped up from running and worrying and wanting so much when I know I’m not worth anything at all.

  “You.” I come to a stop in front of him and bend over, struggling to catch my breath, my leg muscles burning like fire. “Motherfucker.”

  He makes a strange sound I can’t decipher in reply.

  I jab a finger at him, still unable to lift my head, still panting so hard I see black spots swimming in my eyes. “You slept with her? And didn’t think to tell me? What the hell, West?”

  He still says nothing.

  “You knew I wanted her.” I straighten in degrees, turn and drop down on the steps beside him. Rub a hand over my sweaty face. “Goddammit.”

  “She was there for me,” he finally says. “I care for her, but I let her go for you.”

  “Fuck you. You’re making my choices for me now?” But his voice… that same blankness that’s on his face is also in his voice, and I finally take a good look at him. “West. Hey.”

  Empty. His gaze is empty, his face deathly pale. It fucking scares me so much, I grab him by the shoulders and turn him toward me. He has a small cut on his cheek, his lips are cracked and his eyes lined with red. He looks like death warmed over.

  “West. What happened, man? Why are you sitting out here?” I glance back at the building door. It’s ajar. “What the fuck happened to you? Are you sick? Did Kash pass you the bug?”

  He lets out a shaky breath, and emotion flashes through his eyes—a streak of pain and sorrow so deep it looks like a bloody sunset—and then it’s gone once more.

  It scares the shit out of me.

  “West, you’d better say something. I’m freaking out, man.” I shake him a little, and his breath catches in his throat. “Are things okay at home? West, goddammit.”

  He looks like a ghost. He’s staring back at me, but I’m not sure he’s seeing me. His eyes track, but it’s not me he’s seeing. Is it shock? Is he sleepwalking? What the fuck is this?

  I need someone who’ll know what to do. Kash. Or Syd.

  “Come on, let’s go inside.” I tug on his arm, getting to my feet, but he doesn’t move. So I grab him under the armpits and heave him up.

  The scariest part? He lets me. Lets me
manhandle him up the steps, into the building, up the stairs and to the door of his apartment.

  But right there he stops and makes that sound again—like a soft moan full of pain. He stops and won’t let me move him another step. His face blanches more and he sways on his feet.

  Holy fuck, something’s seriously fucking wrong here.

  Before I manage to grab him, he slides down to the floor, to his knees, and bends over, groaning.

  I drop to my knees beside him. “West. Talk to me, man. Your granddad. Your sister. Where are they? Is anyone inside?”

  “They’re… they’re gone,” he breathes, voice choked up. “They’re gone, they’re gone…”

  Jesus fuck.

  “What do you mean? What do you… Oh man. This ain’t looking good.” I whip out my phone and call Kash. I glance at the open door and a cold shiver runs down my back. “Hang in there, West. We’ll figure this out together.”

  We’re sitting on the stairs, and I have my arm around West while Kash talks quietly with the lady living on the same floor. Sydney is on the phone with someone. The hospital, I think.

  His grandfather is in intensive care. Massive heart attack when he found Della, West’s sister, dead.

  But it seems to be more complicated than that.

  “They can’t give me more info,” Sydney says, sitting down on the other side of West. “Just that he’s still critical.” She shoots me a wary glance. “Very critical.”

  Meaning he probably won’t pull through?

  Why isn’t West by his side? I know his granddad is a jerk, but still… I asked West if he wanted to go, but he’s said nothing.

  His sister is gone. Ruled an accident or suicide by the police. Overdose of sleeping pills, which caused uncontrollable vomiting that she choked on.

  West found her like that. And then his grandfather came in and had a heart attack. That’s all I’ve been able to find out.

  Fucking hell.

  Their neighbor, the old lady, found them passed out in one of the bedrooms and called the police and ambulance.