Broken Compass Page 27

  West called me. He called me five times today, and I didn’t hear the phone, and then I ran up here to chew him out over Sydney. I wonder why he lets me hold him when I’m the shittiest best friend on earth.

  Sydney slips her arm around West’s back. “We’re here. You’ll be all right.”

  “Should we take him to the hospital? Have someone look at him?” He barely reacts. He’s really scaring me.

  “Kash says it’s shock.” Sydney’s voice cracks. “He needs time to process.”

  “How long?”

  She shrugs, looking miserable.

  How do we shake him out of it? I need him okay. I need my best friend. I never realized just how much until now, when he’s slumped against me, silent and lost inside his mind.

  I know I’d give anything to get him back. I’d go back to hell for him. I’d give Sydney up, give up this little family we’ve formed if it’d help, though I wish I won’t have to.

  “Nate.” Kash is frowning down at me. “I need a word.”

  He says it so seriously. He’s so calm and composed when I’m hanging on by a thread, about to crack apart. “Sure.”

  Then again, this is West. How could I remain calm when he’s just lost his family and seems to be broken somewhere inside, in some place I can’t reach?

  “I’ve got him,” Sydney says, tugging West against her slight form. She strokes his face.

  I climb to my feet with some difficulty, my leg muscles cold and cramped, my back creaking. “What is it?”

  He leads me up the stairs to the next floor. Is this necessary? I’m about to tell him I don’t have time or energy for this mystery business.

  He stops, turns around and says, “What did West tell you about his grandfather?”

  I blink at him. “His grandfather? Nothing. What should he tell me?”

  Kash’s eyes darken. “I have to talk to West.”

  “Yeah, well not now, man. He’s not doing so good.”

  He shakes his head. “You sure he didn’t say anything?”

  “I’m sure. What is this about? Tell me.”

  “I’m not… certain yet. Something I overheard. Something I probably misunderstood. Which is why I wanna talk to West first.”

  “Fair enough. Listen…” I try to sort through my thoughts. “His family are sickos, man. I’ve known it for as long as I’ve known West. And it’s not the first time his sis tried to kill herself. He’s been dragging that around, made to feel responsible for it. But I don’t think West would’ve shut down because of her death. Even if she was his sister.”

  “And if she wasn’t?”

  “Come again?”

  “What if she wasn’t his sister? What if she was his mom?”

  Oh fuck… “Are you serious? That what you heard? You’re mistaken, dude.”

  But Kash just stares back at me, his gaze bleak.

  No. He has to be wrong. Has to be. I mean… what new hell is this?

  No fucking way.

  Is what Kash said real? Is there more to it? I go down the stairs slowly, thinking, turning the questions over and over in my mind.

  Who is his dad? Does West know? Did his grandfather tell him something before that heart-attack landed him in intensive care? Where was West all night and all day until I made it here and found him on the steps?

  But by the time we get back downstairs, all that’s shoved aside, because West is on his feet and Sydney is tugging on his arm, her eyes wide.

  “Wait,” she’s saying. “Nate! Come here.”

  “Where are you going, buddy?” I make a grab for his arm, but he’s already going down the steps, heading to the building exit. “West!”

  He’s gripping the banister like a lifeline but doesn’t slow down. “I’m leaving.”

  “No, West.” Sydney is scrambling after him. “Wait.”

  “Where the hell are you going?” I take the steps two at a time.

  “I dunno.” He stops at the door, a hand on the handle. He’s staring at it as if he’s forgotten what it’s for. “I… I just…”

  “You’re coming with me.” I catch up with him, lean against the door so he can’t open it, and clasp his biceps. “You hear me?”

  He looks down at my hand, a crease between his brows.

  “With us.” Sydney reaches us, too, and throws her arms around West. “You’re coming with us.”

  “That’s right.” Kash climbs down the last steps and puts his arms around us all. “We’re going home.”

  Book III

  Three Months later

  “My body is a compass and it does not lie.”

  Terry Tempest Williams, If women were birds

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sydney

  Things in my life have changed.

  Well, some things.

  I finished school, landed a part-time job at a nearby college campus, in the admin offices, and life is on track.

  I’m living with Kash and Nate—and West. He’s sleeping on the sofa until we figure this out, and although he has nightmares almost every night and I end up curled around him more often than not, at least I’m not worried anymore that something’s happening to him when I’m not there.

  Yeah, I’m so frigging protective of him after what happened. His sister dead, and then a few days after that, the news that his grandfather passed away, too.

  We’ve tried to get him to talk to us about it all. Threatened to sit on him until he tells us what exactly happened, why he seems so lost, not just sad, not just hurting, but as if he isn’t really here.

  But he is. He’s here. And we’ll help him. I’m protective of all of the guys. Can’t help it. I want to take all their pain and turn it into happiness. If only I knew how…

  Other things have changed too. Sleeping with West and Kash has shifted the dynamic. Because I don’t have that with Nate. He looks at me like he’s starving for me but can’t have me, that naked longing in his eyes making me squirm.

  Actually, at this point they’re all looking at me like that, since we haven’t touched that way since West moved in with us. Something’s got to give, I can feel it, but meanwhile, we’re all going about our lives like before.

  Mainly, and most importantly, my feelings for these three boys haven’t changed. If anything, they’ve become stronger. I don’t know what I’d do if anything was to happen to them.

  Can you love three men equally? Is it normal? Am I crazy?

  I think that Nate’s migraines and breakdown, Kash’s sickness and flashes of vulnerability, and our worry about West have brought us closer together.

  Or is it all in my mind?

  Mom hasn’t come back, and there are days when I miss her so badly I don’t know what to do with myself. During those nights, when I can’t sleep, I look for one of the boys to snuggle with. They always lift the covers for me, letting me snuggle close. I try to push all that to the back of my mind, focus on everyday life, but I need to talk to someone, about mom, about the boys

  Especially about the boys—because let’s face it, Mom is a lost cause.

  So I ask my new bestie about it.

  I’m staying over at Gigi’s place, at her mother’s house. She’s telling me about Jarett, her man, how awesome he is, how pretty, how strong, blah blah—I mean, we all know my boys are the prettiest, right?—and I pop in the question, pretending to be musing about the world in general.

  “Hey… what do you think about loving more than one guy at a time?”

  She chokes on her chewing gum and hacks like a cat with a hairball in her throat. “A threesome?” she squeaks.

  “Why restrict yourself? How about a foursome? Three guys, one girl.” Three guys I know very well, and a girl who doesn’t know what the heck she’s doing.

  “You serious?” When I don’t answer, she sighs and slumps back on the bed. “Um… Hot, I guess. How would that work out?

  “Um. No idea. Ask them if they’re game, I guess?’

  “No. I mean the sex, girl. One girl, th
ree boys. How?”

  “Oh.” Heat spreads on my face. “I was thinking more about… love? Isn’t that more important?”

  “So this isn’t a theoretical question, is it? It’s about your boys? I thought you only had two.”

  “They’re not my boys,” I say automatically, to avoid assumptions. I say that every time she mentions them. She’s seen them waiting for me after work, or coming to pick me up when we go for a coffee, and refers to them as my boyfriends.

  God, don’t I wish. It’s what I want. But it may all be wishful thinking. None of the boys have even touched me in these past weeks, let alone sat down and talked to me about their feelings.

  Yeah, I know, I know. Boys. They don’t like talking about feelings, about what’s on their minds.

  Le sigh.

  “So…” Gigi says. “You basically are wondering how a love relationship between a girl and more guys could work out, yes? Because, well, I’ve read this story online, on a blog… It’s been taken down since then, but I saved a copy. I’ll send it to you. It’s fun.”

  Fun? I’m not looking for a comedy, even less a fictional story. I want answers.

  “I’m sending it to your email. It’s called Candy Boys.” She tucks her lower lip between her teeth as she types on her phone. “Warning: it’s really hot. The sex scenes… whew.”

  “Foursome scenes?”

  A blush spreads over her cheeks. “Threesome. Trust me, girl, that’s hot enough already.” She fans herself with her hand, lets the phone drop on her bed and props her chin on her hand.

  I believe her. Just the thought of doing it with the guys gets me all worked up. Having them one by one kiss me, pleasure me, was scorching. I can’t imagine having them all together.

  Would they all lie with me, run their hands over me, get naked… Would they touch each other? Kiss each other? Would they stroke their hard-ons, would they sink into me?

  Could I take more than one at a time? Pleasure more than one, pleasure all of them? The images send a pleasurable ache between my legs, deep inside of me.

  Holy shit, I haven’t even had proper sex yet in my life, and I’m imagining… what? Losing my V-card to all three of them at once?

  “You’re blushing,” Gigi says with a giggle.

  “So are you,” I say absently. I’m so turned on it’s killing me. What I want is to run back home, grab all the boys by the hand and lead them to my room, to my bed.

  Would they let me? With them, I don’t feel alone. I feel whole. I feel that I’ve come home. But I doubt we can stay together like siblings. I want them too much, my body craves them, and I think they want me, too.

  Please, don’t make me choose. I can’t choose. If I choose one, will the other two leave? Move out? I can’t let that happen. Can’t survive that.

  They have the pieces of my heart, and if I lose them, I’ll have no heart left at all.

  After a long day at work, I can’t wait to get home. I’m torn between hoping the boys are awake, so I can talk to them, maybe watch a movie with them—and hoping they’re asleep so I can settle in my bed and read more of the story Gigi sent me.

  Because, oh man, Gigi was right. That story… whew. Somehow the heroine ends up with her two guys. I just haven’t figured out yet how. It feels a bit like magic. Like she goes, hey guys, I want you both, are you game? And they go like, woo let’s get naked.

  So easy.

  Why can’t real life be as easy? I ask you. I want to read more, see if there’s an answer, a clue as to how she did it.

  When I reach home, at first I think it will be me and the story tonight. West is snoring softly on the sofa, TV playing in the background.

  But then I glance into Nate’s room through the half-open door and find him playing games on his phone.

  He lifts his head and dimples at me, his smile bright. He puts his phone down and beckons me closer.

  I step inside and make my slow approach to his bed. I’ve slept beside him quite a few nights since that first time I woke him up from a nightmare, but I’m always careful not to startle him, or touch him when he isn’t ready.

  He’s like a live grenade. If only he wasn’t so beautiful. Hot, strong, unpredictable and dangerous. Shirtless, his muscular chest bare, all hard planes and ridges, he’s such eye-candy it makes my heart ache.

  I sit down on the mattress and he strokes my cheek. “Hey.”

  “Syd.” His rough palm is warm and I lean into it. His bright eyes drop to my mouth. “Missed you.”

  He says things like that sometimes and makes me melt. “Missed you, too.”

  Since that time he freaked out when he kissed me, he hasn’t tried again, and he’s been distant sometimes—though I’m not sure if it’s because of that, or because he doesn’t know what to make of this situation. I told him I need them all. He knows.

  Maybe I managed to confuse him as much as I’m confusing myself.

  But tonight his mouth crashes on mine without hesitation. His other hand circles my neck, cups the back of my head, and he licks at my lips, drawing a moan from my throat.

  God, I’ve wanted this. Him. So much. I open my mouth to his tongue and clutch at him when he fucks me with it, short, hard thrusts that I can somehow feel between my legs.

  My nipples are hard, my breasts achy, and I throb between my legs and deeper. Deep in my core, I need to feel him, I need him to thrust inside me.

  He drags me closer, almost in his lap, until I fold my legs on either side of him and feel his hard-on, hot and hard and thick pressed between my thighs.

  After all the doubts and soul-searching, the heartache and desire, having him melded to me like this is so good it makes me want to cry. Being allowed to touch him, touch his face, feel his stubble under my hand, wind my arms around his neck and feel those powerful muscles of his chest and shoulders pressed to me.

  I kiss him back, my eyes prickling.

  And then, just like last time, he breaks the kiss and pushes me away, so hard I actually fall back on the bed.

  I’m staring up at the ceiling, my mouth still burning from his kiss, my eyes leaking, my heart pounding.

  “Syd…” He scoots back, kneels on the bed, teeth bared in a grimace. “Shit. Fuck, this isn’t working. Are you okay?”

  “I just can’t…” I wipe at my eyes, annoyed that I get so emotional. “It hurts.”

  He curses, slams his hand into the wall. “Fuck. The fuck.” And again, his fist thumping so hard it leaves an imprint of blood.

  That has me sitting up in a hurry. “Stop. Nate, stop.”

  “I hurt you.” Every word comes out like broken glass. “I’m hurting you.”

  “It just hurts that I don’t know how to help. That I can’t stop myself from touching you when it stresses you.”

  “It’s not you. I’m sorry.” He reaches for me, strokes his bloody knuckles softly down my neck, making me shiver. His golden eyes are sorrowful. “So fucking sorry, Syd. I thought I’d figured it out, that I was over this fucking shit.”

  But he can touch me. It’s when we kiss and press our bodies together that his mind betrays him. “What scares you? When will you tell me what happened to you?”

  “Shit, I just…” He shakes his head, his face white like paper. “Can’t.”

  “Okay.” I want to hold him, stroke his face, his hair, reassure him, but I don’t dare touch right now. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “The hell we don’t,” he whispers, “unless… you don’t want it.”

  “I do. So much. But it’s okay if you can’t, Nate.”

  “The hell it is. How can it be okay? Not being able to fucking touch you, hold you…” he chokes.

  “We can take it slow. I’d wait for you, don’t you see?”

  His eyes go a little wide. “Syd…”

  “I’ll always wait for you.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. Wait for me, put up with me freaking out. Pushing you away.”

  I finally give in and touch his face. He draws in a
n uneven breath. “You’re worth waiting for, Nate.”

  “Am I?” Slightly bitter, and breathless, and hopeful. God, he has pretty eyes. They shine like old jewels. “I thought you’d have given up on me and settled on Kash and West by now.”

  “I’m not giving up on you. Why would you think that?”

  “I’m not an easy person to be around.”

  “No, you’re not. What would be the fun in that?”

  He finally grins, and drags me down to the mattress with him. “Sleep with me?”

  “You only have to ask, Mr. Brady.” I grin back at him and settle in for a restless night, my heart torn between happiness and sorrow.

  A noise wakes me up in the middle of the night. I’m lying next to Nate, his hand on my waist, my hands pressed to his chest, splayed over smooth, warm skin. I can feel his heart thump under my palms, slow and steady.

  Peaceful.

  He’s fast asleep, but he’s a light sleeper, so when the noise comes again and I move, he stirs, blinking dark lashes. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. Go back to sleep. I’m going to check on West.”

  “Hm…” He takes my hands off his chest and kisses the palms, making me shiver. “Is he having a nightmare? I’ll go with you.”

  I love calm, sleepy-eyed Nate. He’s raw sexiness like this, a grin curving his generous mouth, his hair tousled and that naked chest… God.

  Just as much as I like messed-up Nate, all sharp edges and pain. Because that’s him, too. Both sides make up the man I love.

  One of the men I love, but I won’t think of this now, this complication.

  “Come on, then.” I roll out of bed and realize that at some point during the night I got rid of my jeans and slept in my blouse and bra. Tugging on the hem of the blouse, I pad out of the room, squinting through the dimness at West who’s supposed to be asleep on the sofa.

  But as my eyes grow accustomed to the low light, the only source a small lamp in the corner, I see West swinging his legs off the sofa, preparing to get up.

  He nods at me and Nate, his heavily muscled torso gleaming golden.