Roll Against Discovery (3d20 Book 3) (6 page)

“That’s not what I’m saying.” The muffled shout jarred me awake.

I jolted upright, as my surroundings slammed into focus. I sat in an empty bed, and Evan and Trevor stood on the balcony. My fuzzy thoughts told me that was probably Evan yelling.

“It sounds like it to me.” Trevor’s voice was just as loud.

I blinked bleary-eyed at the digital clock next to me. Seven in the morning. On a Saturday. The hotel guests had to be loving this. An invisible fist squeezed my chest, as I studied their faces through the glass, both twisted with fury.

Evan clenched his fists. “Because you’re not fucking listening.”

“Or you’re talking over my head.”

“I’m done here, until you pull your head out of your ass.” Evan spun away and flung the door open. He paused, one foot in the room, when he saw me. He clenched his jaw, then shook his head and strode past, floor shaking with each step. Seconds later, the door slammed shut behind him.

Concern flooded me. I was on my feet in an instant, not caring I still only wore a shirt. I blocked Trevor’s path when he came back inside. “What’s going on?”

Trevor stepped around me and grabbed a new T-shirt from a duffel bag on the floor, never looking directly at me. “Don’t worry about it.”

The casual brush-off stung. “Don’t do that. I obviously am worried about it.” It was easier than admitting the shrug-off left an empty pit inside me.

He met my gaze. “I have to leave the con early. Whatever happened last night at work isn’t fixed after all.” His jaw was clenched, and he wouldn’t make eye contact.

“So that makes the two of you shout at the top of your lungs, first thing in the morning?”

Trevor’s nostrils flared, and the corners of his eyes tugged down. “Don’t push this, Kathryn. It is what it is, and having a long, drawn-out discussion isn’t going to change that.”

Whatever happened between us last night, the shared moments on the balcony seemed to be non-existent now. The realization added a new sting to his dismissal, but I couldn’t help bargaining anyway. Even though I knew his going back to work wasn’t at the root of what had happened, it was all I had. “Can you fix it and come back? Get someone else to work on it remotely?”

God, I was pathetic. He already told me to let it go, and it wasn’t as though any relationship with either of them was going to last past this weekend. Why did I push so hard?

“No. That won’t fix anything.” He tossed his clothes in his bag. “Keep the shirt. You wear it better than I do. I’m sorry I can’t help you finish the game.”

“I don’t care about the fucking game!” My retort burst out louder than I expected, and I bit the inside of my cheek. “I care about…” I couldn’t force the word out, even though it was right on the tip of my tongue. All I had to say was
you.
Except something told me it wouldn’t make this better.

“Yeah. Me too. That’s the problem.”

My heart felt like it might crumple in on itself, and I couldn’t find a response.

He shook his head and hooked his bag over his shoulder. “We all knew what this was.” The fight was gone from his voice, as was all emotion. “I enjoyed every minute of it, but the weekend is over for me. If you run into Evan, whatever you say to him is between the two of you.”

He felt the same way I did. Defiance burst forward. I couldn’t let him leave like this. I wished Evan were here too, but I had to start somewhere. “Trevor, I don’t want—”

“Stop.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. It’s been twenty-four hours. We don’t know each other, and in a few days, you’ll be glad you kept this to yourself.”

He was wrong. Keeping my mouth shut wasn’t the answer. Except, his certainty knocked mine off-kilter. They didn’t know me. I wasn’t some bold, outgoing, fun person. I wore a mask, to make the day more enjoyable. What if they did the same—either or both of them? Even if they didn’t, and if did actually had any fraction of the same feelings I did, it wasn’t for the real me. My protests died, choked off in my tight throat.

He turned away. “I have to go.”

****

Chloe emailed me with the next clue while I was showering, and I tried to ignore the unreasonable ache inside when I sent her a quick note saying,
Sorry, have to bow out.
Trevor’s shirt taunted me from the bathroom counter, where I’d tossed it. I hovered my fingers over it, tempted to put it back on, but I’d managed to mostly replace the scent of his cologne with body wash. I couldn’t dive back into that unrealistic memory. That didn’t stop me from tucking the shirt into my luggage.

I wandered the convention, unsure where I was going or what I wanted to do. As the top of each hour rolled around, I hovered near a panel, sometimes drifting into the room and then deciding I wasn’t in the mood after all. Logic and reason sided with Trevor’s words, asking why I let this get to me.

“Hey, Sis.” Jackson startled me, as he fell into step beside me and draped an arm over my shoulders. “Did we miss anything interesting?”

Yup. Me being impulsive and doing things I knew better than to do. It wasn’t that I regretted the time spent with Evan and Trevor, just that I’d started to believe it meant more than it did. “Not really,” I said.

Carter held up a bag. “We brought lunch.”

The smell of Chinese food wafted toward me, and my stomach growled in response, reminding me I’d skipped breakfast and it was almost two.

“Sorry we took so long.” Zoe stood on my other side. Being surrounded by friends helped push my wallowing to the back of my mind, and dragged me to the surface. “Traffic, errands… Blah, blah, blah.”

“You’re not answering your phone.” Concern leaked into Jackson’s voice. “We almost ate without you.” He spun me to face him, his brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I forced a smile onto my face and nodded toward the elevators. “Fine. Why do you keep asking me that?” I knew my laugh sounded forced. Jackson would see right through it. With any luck, he’d let it slide, though. What I needed right now was to pretend to be happy, to get over the fact I was no longer pretending to be fun. “Come up to my room. I’m starved.”

Jackson studied me. “You’ve been so engrossed in this thing”—he nodded at our surroundings—”you forgot to eat
and
ignored your phone? Guess you are fine.”

“See?” I half dragged him toward the elevators, and his partners followed. They kept up a steady stream of chatter, and I chimed in when appropriate. We settled into my room—at least I was getting some use out of the place—and spread the food out on the desk. The longer they talked, the more I managed to pull myself into some semblance of normalcy. My mood lifted, and I was able to silence the chanting voice in the back of my mind insisting I missed the guys.

I watched Jackson, Carter, and Zoe while we ate and bantered. The way they interacted with each other looked so natural. No one scowled when the other two shared a touch. They all looked equally comfortable with little things like a hand-squeeze, a kiss on the cheek, or even a pat on the ass. A tinge of envy wormed through me, not because Jackson had a gorgeous boyfriend—that was always the cause for it in the past—but because they all looked like they wanted to be with each other.

I wasn’t greedy. I’d take this from just one person. My chest squeezed in protest, and I ignored it. I never should have let myself project this desire on two strangers, especially convincing myself I clicked with them. My heart hammered harder, almost painfully, against my ribs. Stupid emotions.

“Can I ask you something?” I wasn’t sure who I was talking to, or even why I blurted out the question.

“Always,” Jackson said.

“Do you guys ever worry about…?” I clamped my jaw shut when I realized what I was about to say? Why would I do that? I already knew the answer. “Never mind.”

“About what?” Zoe asked.

I was happy when Jackson started dating her. She gave him a calm center he hadn’t had before. Grounded him, without restricting him. He said she helped him become more…
him
. I never understood what he meant, but maybe I got it more than I admitted. “About what people say. Not about the three of you together. Well, not quite.” I wasn’t asking this the right way. The words were botched before I even said them. They were all so unique, and didn’t seem to care if people saw it, when I felt as if the world watched and judged me the entire time I put myself out there yesterday.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Jackson asked.

“Probably not. Not today, anyway.” I wanted to talk about it, but I needed to sort through it first. It had to make more sense to me, before I got someone else’s input.

He shrugged. “The thing is people always talk, no matter what you do. They don’t limit their whispers to the outgoing girls in their cosplay, or the group of three who can’t keep their hands off each other. You can stay single, and they’ll gossip. Date a rich guy, a poor guy, a girl, an older man, a younger man—
they’ll
have an opinion. Even if you keep your head down and never talk to anyone you think doesn’t want to be talked to, someone will have something to say about it.” He almost stared right through me, his gaze peering into my soul. “The people who talk will always find something to talk about. That’s why you have to ask yourself what you want, instead of what you don’t want them to say.”

He made it sound so simple. Jackson had told me things like that before, but they never really made sense. They almost did now. Except he still didn’t tell me what to do about Evan and Trevor. Let them go—like a normal, sane person would do after twenty-four hours of insane fun and meaningless sex—or listen to the part of me whispering maybe it wasn’t so meaningless.

I pushed the rest of my food aside, as my mouthful of orange chicken turned to sawdust. Why couldn’t I let this go?

My mood lifted the longer I hung out with my friends. We stayed up way too late, ate too much junk food, watched too many cartoons, and drank more alcohol than I normally consumed in a month. I finally invited them to crash in my hotel room, rather than send them home in a cab.

The next morning, while the pile of three slept soundly on the second bed, I dressed quietly, and made my way downstairs. I’d go pick up breakfast or something. It was the last day of the con; we should make sure we had fun. The problem was, alone with my thoughts and sober, I had time to remember the day before. Longing surged back, and I grabbed my phone. Too bad I didn’t have an email address or phone number for Trevor and Evan, but I had their user names.

I shouldn’t do this. Trevor’s words about regretting speaking up echoed in my head, but I didn’t think he believed them any more than I trusted myself. If I didn’t do this, I’d never stop wondering what could have been. It wasn’t as if I expected either of them to fall down on one knee and confess their undying love, but I did want to spend more time with both of them and see what came next.

I dashed off a quick private message, copying Evan and Trevor on the same note.
I’d like to see you again.

I didn’t want them to believe I was trying to pull them apart. The thought seemed to spring from nowhere—a truth I hadn’t recognized yet. It was unreasonable to expect an answer right away, or even at all, but that didn’t stop sadness from sinking in when my phone stayed silent. I jumped when it chimed in my hand, then laughed at my own reaction. The text was from Jackson, and my disappointment grew.
Making plans for the day. You anywhere interesting?

Grabbing breakfast. Back soon,
I replied.

I should do that. The hotel had a coffee shop with bagels and muffins. I’d snag us some food there, and head back upstairs. My feet stuck to the floor, legs refusing to move, when I realized Evan stood a few feet away, at the checkout desk. In the second it took him to turn in my direction, a billion options presented themselves to me, boiling down to a smile and acting as if seeing him was nothing, ignoring him and walking away, or telling him at least a little of what was on my mind. The last option terrified me, but it was the only one I could choose.

“Kitten.” The nickname sliced into my soul, sharper than any blade. His smile didn’t quite form. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your message. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.”

“Leaving already?” That was weak. And really obvious. The gears of my mind refused to turn, though.

“Should have left yesterday.” He stepped closer, moving out of people’s way. His familiar scent, sharp and clean, threatened my grasp on composure. How could I have such a strong reaction to someone I barely knew? He raised a hand, as if to reach for me, then let it drop limply back by his side. “I don’t know what Trevor told you.”

“Nothing. Not really. That he had to leave early for work, and goodbye.”

Evan’s laugh was clipped. “Sounds like him. You deserve a little more.” His shoulders rose and fell when he sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled. “Look, I know we told you we’ve done this before, but you were different.”

I tried not to read too much into the words, but they already buoyed hope inside. “I feel the same about both of you. I mean that you’re different. You already know this was new for me.”

His expression wilted. “That’s part of the problem. We know this doesn’t go past this hotel.” He furrowed his brow. “It won’t. It can’t.”

And like that, my mood shattered. I swallowed hard, but couldn’t rid myself of the lump in my throat. “Of course.”

“The thing is”—he clenched and unclenched his fist—“if you tell yourself it’s because this was never meant to be more, if you believe our original intentions are the only reason it’s ending, you’re doing yourself and the memory a disservice. If you’d prefer, it’s not you. It’s us. Trevor has been my best friend forever. So long, I barely remember how we met. I like you. I can’t speak for him, but it’s a fair bet he feels the same. And maybe one of us would click with you, and maybe the other would be happy being a third wheel, or maybe we’d date and it wouldn’t work out, and all this over-analyzing would be for nothing. Lots of maybes.”

I struggled to process his words without letting my frustration show. My voice wouldn’t work, and unshed tears stung my eyes.

“The only
not-maybe
, the only sure thing, is I can’t lose Trevor. I’m sorry, Kitten. That’s what it comes down to.”

They fought over me. It made sense the moment I thought it. I’d known it in the back of my mind, but the same part of me that locked the realization away still denied it was possible, despite the proof I just heard. I forced myself to sound something other than completely bummed out. “I get it. It’s okay.” It wasn’t. Not really. But I didn’t want to come between them. “See you around.” I stepped back. “Or not. You know. Whatever.” I spun and ducked my head, ignoring anything else Evan had to say. I kept my pace normal as I walked back toward the elevator, despite the prickle in my throat and the burn in my eyes. Why did this hurt so much?

****

I was never one of those people who hated Mondays. Work paid the bills, and I didn’t mind my job. But two weeks after the convention, my third Monday back in the office, I sat at my desk, staring at my call stats and waiting for the next person to ring through. I wanted to be anywhere else. Or maybe I simply wanted to be at the one place I couldn’t. I refused to let myself think their names.

At least I was second-tier support, so I only had to answer questions from other technicians. And we supported networking hardware for large corporations, so most of the people calling in were experienced and professional. I might not be as patient as needed with end-users. I’d already snapped at one tech, when he asked me the same question he called with every other day.

My phone rang, and I forced the cheer into my voice. “Help desk. This is Kathryn. What’s up?” We were supposed to use a more formal greeting but had a little leeway for internal people.

“I have a customer asking for a supervisor.”

Escalation.
Yay.
My gut twisted in on itself. We were the next line of support when someone was pissed off and wanted to talk to someone in charge. I guess it kept management free to do their other work. I didn’t like talking to pissed-off customers, and they didn’t make it to my line unless they were just that. I always cowered and caved the moment they started to yell. “What’s the issue?”

“He won’t tell me. He demanded a supervisor the moment I picked up, and that’s all he’ll say.”

Ooh, he was extra angry. Even better. I stashed the sarcastic thoughts, swallowed my pending anxiety, and said, “Pass him through.” The line clicked, indicating I’d been connected to the caller. “This is Kathryn. I understand you’re having an issue. How can I help you today?”

“Hello?”

I refused to roll my eyes. It would crack the shell I had to wrap myself in, to deal with these calls. If I were more like the woman I’d pretended to be at the convention, maybe I’d handle them better. As it was, I already knew I’d bend, break, and acquiesce before the call was over. I always did. “Yes, sir. Hello. How can I help you?”

“I asked to be passed to a supervisor, not a secretary. Let me talk to someone in management.”

I clenched my jaw. I could do this. It wouldn’t be a problem. I’d take care of things and then go on break, to unwind. “I’m a supervisor. What seems to be the issue?”

“You’re not listening, missy.” Condescension oozed from his words. “I want to talk to someone who has the authority to help me, not the gal who answers their phones. Get me someone competent on the line, or I’ll have my lawyer contact you.”

A growl rose in my chest. I breathed through my nose, focusing on staying calm. “I assure you, I’m able to resolve any issue you’re having. Is this a router problem? If you’ll give me your company name, I can pull up your hardware information.”

“Listen, little lady. I’m trying to be polite, but you’re testing my patience. If you don’t transfer me now to someone who can help, instead of prattling on in what I’m sure someone thought was a soothing voice, I’m going to start yelling.”

Something inside me snapped so cleanly, I swore I felt the rush through me. “Do you have children, sir? A daughter perhaps.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. Are you going to transfer me or not?”

My messenger window on my computer chimed with a note from my boss. I ignored it. “What would you do if someone talked to her this way?” I asked. I’d never acted like this at work. It was always suck it up, listen to the shouting, and then apologize until the customer was happy.

“They wouldn’t, because my daughter isn’t an impertinent bitch.”

My blood pressure soared. I muted my computer to keep it from chiming. I was in so much trouble, and I wasn’t sure I cared. What happened to me? “Perhaps if she had a father who wasn’t a sexist asshole, she’d be a more useful member of society.” That wasn’t fair; I didn’t even know the poor girl. I did pity her, though.

“Listen, you stupid cunt. Do you have any idea who I am?”

My anxiety was gone, replaced with fury. “I don’t. Do you know why? Because you haven’t given me your fu—”

“I’m sorry about that, sir.” A new voice cut into the line, talking over me. Seconds later, my line disconnected. I clenched my teeth, seething with fury.

“Greggers.” My barked last name filled the call-center floor. I spun in my chair, to see my boss, Brad, standing in his office door, face red. “In here. Now.”

I flung my headset aside and stalked toward him. If every eye in the room hadn’t been on me before, they were now. Good. Let them stare and whisper.

Brad shut the door the moment I was inside. “Sit down.” His words were clipped. He didn’t do the same, standing near his desk instead. “What the hell was that? Quality assurance was on that call, you know.”

“Too bad.” I shouldn’t snap at Brad, but the guy on the phone had me that furious. “If they’d given me thirty more seconds, I would have told that asshole where to stick it.”

Brad raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “This isn’t like you.”

“Do you blame me?”

“I can’t let you talk like that to customers.”

“That’s not what I asked.” My rage was ebbing, but I still didn’t feel I was in the wrong.

He gave a snorting laugh. “I don’t blame you, but I still have to write you up.”

“Not fire me?” I needed my job. At least until someone came up with a way for me to do anything I wanted without having to pay bills.

“You’re good at what you do. Take the rest of the day off. When you come back tomorrow, don’t let it happen again.”

Except part of me wanted to let it happen again. It felt good to tell that guy what I thought. Even more, I’d rather not come back at all. I wanted to be doing something else. With someone else. Or rather, two someone elses. I couldn’t afford to think like that, and I couldn’t take any more time to straighten out my head. Real life wouldn’t wait while I did.