Seconds pass like hours. My shoulders tighten, my heart rate reaching dangerous levels. Why isn’t he speaking or moving? I need to know what he’s looking at.
With the poker gripped in a clammy hand, I lean forward, stretching as far as possible while remaining hidden. When the width of the room comes into view, my heart slams to a stop.
Trace.
He stands behind a second couch, his arctic blue eyes and angry scowl trained on Cole. The sight of him in a t-shirt and dark denim jeans is arresting, but that isn’t what holds my breath hostage.
He’s aiming a handgun, finger on the trigger, directly at Cole.
“How are you feeling, baby?” Cole doesn’t take his eyes off Trace.
I jerk my head back, and a sudden coldness hits my core. Cole’s talking to me? Why is his tone so casual? Like he’s not staring down the barrel of a gun. Like I wasn’t drugged and kidnapped and dropped in the most fucked-up situation imaginable. What the fuck is going on?
“Danni.” Trace cuts his eyes to me and returns to Cole. “Put down the poker and come sit down.”
This isn’t happening. They wouldn’t have done this.
“Please tell me you’re not responsible for drugging and kidnapping me.” My voice is reedy, halting, disbelieving.
They continue to stare at each other in silence, with that damn gun hovering between them.
“Is anyone else here?” I grip the wall and scan the living room and open kitchen on the far end.
“Just the three of us.” Cole stretches his arms across the back of the couch, making his chest a bigger target for Trace’s bullet. “One big happy family.”
I have so many questions, and my composure is eroding by the second. Fear from moments ago, grief from the past five weeks, the devastation of their betrayal, the utter shock and relief in seeing them both again—all of it churns into a cauldron of bubbling, maniacal emotions. My throat swells. My eyes burn, and the fireplace poker trembles so violently in my hand I can’t hold onto it.
“Trace?” I set the poker on the stairs and take a cautious step forward, tears welling. “Did you do this? Did you kidnap us?”
It kills me to think he might’ve resorted to this level of madness, but he’s holding a gun. I didn’t even know he owned one.
He laughs, a cold cavernous sound. “Explain to me why you think I’m the bad guy.”
I open my mouth to mention the weapon, but my assumption might be wrong. What if Cole kidnapped me and Trace showed up to save me?
That doesn’t feel right, though. This entire situation is fucking with my head, but there’s one thing I know for sure.
“You like to have the upper hand.” I swallow, eyes on Trace. “When I left you, I took away your control over me. Is that what this is? Are you taking the control back?” I pause behind the chair that sits crosswise between them. “Please, put down the gun.”
“Or shoot me already.” With a humorless grin, Cole softly sings along with the vocals of the song, taunting Trace with an arrogant lack of concern.
His beautiful voice is unnervingly distracting. Deep and seductive, he carries a humming tune, mouthing the aggressive lyrics about corrosion of trust, loss of security, and the total breakdown of love.
The song pretty much sums up the state of our ruined relationships. We circled an unsolvable problem, inadvertently tangling a web around us. Lies, jealousy, resentment, stubborn love, all of it spinning us into a vicious spiral. The more we struggled, the stickier and tighter the web became. So I walked away, gave up everything I loved, before it was too late to escape.
Or so I thought.
“I have more control than you know, Danni.” Trace holds the gun steady, arm stretched and trained on Cole. “But that’s not what this is about.”
“You’re holding Cole at gunpoint, and that has nothing to do with me?” I feel sick to my stomach with anxiety.
“We’re just settling a disagreement.” Trace scans my hunched, swaying stance. “Sit your ass down before you pass out.”
“I’m not moving until you put away the gun.”
“She’s not impressed with your weapon, asshole.” Cole smirks. “No wonder she left you.”
“I left you, too,” I whisper.
A dismal cloud darkens Cole’s expression, and his hands clench on the back of the couch.
“Have you both lost your minds?” I stab a shaky finger between them, my voice rising to a teary shrill. “I quit this and moved on. I’m supposed to be on my way to a new life right now. A new life without you. So I’m struggling to understand why I’m here, knee-deep in your toxic, manipulative bullshit.”