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Me and Lucas—the troubled twosome trek it to tantalizing treats.
Hey, I know that was cheesy, but give me lame credits for trying to cheer myself up.
Hopefully, scarfing down cupcakes at Sweet Suffering works better. Hell, that’s why they exist—to become the very medicine, and welcoming addiction, to fix inner turmoil.
I try hard to ignore the fast and hard guilt-ridden winds that whip inside me, casted from a pity hurricane. It rages on while Lucas does his part of lifting the ol’ spirits by making jokes but reality and its sucky presence, hang low—We may have slept together. We may have beaten a mobster in poker and taken his gold. I am most definitely a horrible sister. Surely, a horrible friend for leaving Gavin’s mansion the way I did and not confronting the situation.
This whistles loudly through my ears.
I need to focus on getting things smoothed with Lucas first, get a handle on our mistakes.
Mistakes—with an s.
A bell dings as we enter the cupcake shop, enriched in soft, pastel colors with swirling vanilla-scented air in its capacity. In part, it’s also a cafe accommodating people to stay and eat in snug booths and round tables. Here and my favorite breakfast spot, Skully’s, are my sanctuary. They’ve seen me many times through troubled situations.
Clearly, I’m trying to avoid blatantly endorsing food being the correct choice to make all your shit go away. Not a great message to the kiddos.
Still the waning lunch hour, Sweet Suffering gracefully handles the crowd who need a shot of sugar to get through the rest of the day. The line stops short by the door. Lucas points to a vacated booth, its occupants just leaving. I tell him to order one of each special. Whatever it is. I don’t mind. Seraphina, an angel, bakes anything beautifully. I descend on the booth and brush leftover crumbs off the wooden table. After, I take a minute, dropping my head back against the booth seat, closing my eyes, and let the surrounding busy ambiance drown me. Sinking in the comfortable bench, savoring its cool temperature against my thighs—a more pleasant feeling than the growing heat outside.
Like quicksand, my mind slowly falls—there’s nothing I can possibly contemplate further while I wait for Heidi’s call.
Just wait.
And keep falling—
“Kokoa?” A female voice rouses my eyes open. Standing across me is a vampire. Veronica, the mate of Piper’s older brother. She holds a box of cupcakes and her baby son on her hip. Evan, the growing fast hybrid, who Piper and I would babysit every now and then. He waves a pudgy hand and smiles, showing one fang.
Veronica’s red eyes take in my state—a slouched woman, sitting alone in a booth.
“Are you okay, dear?”
“Yeah, I’m waiting for my friend.” I point to Lucas who’s close to the counter. Veronica nods, though remains wary.
“You sure?”
I shrug. “Nothing that a cupcake and I hug won’t fix.” I laugh lightly. At that, Evan reaches for me, making grabbing hands. His mama passes him to me and I get that hug. Baby embraces sooth the heart and soul. Evan lays his green curly head on my shoulder while I gently squeezed his small body.
“Your heart rate has steadied, exceptionally,” Veronica muses, cocking a hip. “Something was bothering you. If you need to talk about it, I have no problem listening. Evan and I were just headed home.”
I begin to say it’s nothing—nothing. I want to down load on her—but stop and ask a question instead.
“Do you happen to know any info about Sammy...?” I discreetly glance around and continue in a whisper. “Sammy Three Fingers?”
The vampire arches a brow, a suspicious expression etches into her pale, dark features. Being the mate of a man who has knowledge of good and bad business dealings on Grimstone—like Adrian—and is immersed herself just the same, she’d know exactly who I’m talking about.
“The details I have share identical conclusions—stay away from the leprechaun.” The older woman gives me an all too familiar pointed, warning look.
You are edging towards bad territory, missy.
Too late.
“I will tell you this; word has surfaced Sammy has halted all activity. Before his black out a rumor spread he’d been caught in a bind with a merman. Keeland makes it a note to keep tabs on men like Sammy, an insurance to stay clear of him and his people. The word came about recently.”
“How recent?” A shiver rocks my spine. Evan feels it and nuzzles my neck.
“Early this morning. I did not further ask, since it doesn’t directly concern my family nor my and Keeland’s business. Though I’m sure some folks are happy for the break in dirty work being conducted behind closed doors.”
The conversation ends there because an odd sensation pinches my gut and can’t ask more. I hand Evan back to her. She gifts another “watch it” glance but voices to call her if I need her then leaves.
Now, why would Sammy stop doing what he loves?
Had he gone on vacation, having left the island? Or had something recently happened that requires his sole attention?
Like two delinquents, one a merman, outsmarting his cheating game and walked off with a shiny pot of priceless souvenirs?
Something that’s never happened before.
Crap.
“Ready for a sugar hit?” Lucas says, sliding in the opposite seat, and divides artfully decorated cupcakes on pink napkins.
Let the cakes control you, and not the fear that begins to surface again.
Right. I sip at the ice coffee Lucas also got. We each get three cupcakes—new recipes I hadn’t tried before. That’s how it goes here. New creations are crafted every day, a graced special for sweet lovers. Each more bizarre than the last. In front of me, sitting in gold foil and labeled are: Limbs Galore, Pumpkin Carcass, and Gutted, a deadly theme that I can’t wait to sink my fangs into.
Limbs Galore is a chocolate cake with peach, flesh tone icing and topped with little body parts made of fondant. Lucas pops an arm in his mouth and winks. I laugh, un-foiling Pumpkin Carcass and take a ginormous bite. Its spiced pumpkin-flavored breading fuses with rich vanilla frosting and candy corn pieces. I bite down on those along with pumpkin inners and seeds—making up its namesake. Gutted was disturbing to look at it—crafted entirely to look like a belly that’s been sliced open. Ribbons of red and pink icing spurted out the gash and plum jam oozed when squishing the brown sugar cake.
While eating, you’d assume I would divulge the convo about Sammy to Lucas. Not happening yet. It’ll spoil goody time.
I’ve fudged up enough people, so I’ll wait till we’re done plus several minutes after. That way tummies can have their cupcake moments. The only thing that is spoken is appreciation of how scrumptious they are. A few “mms” are thrown in. At one point, I break to breathe and check my phone. Before leaving the cabin, I called Heidi on it, following I was plagued with low service. I waved it around, pleading for more bars, and hoping I hadn’t missed Heidi’s call.
None.
I avoid looking through last night’s family group thread. I delete it and the trouble embedded in each outgoing text.
Nothing in the inbox—well, nothing new until I stick the phone higher in the air then it buzzes constantly—bringing in a load of new texts.
I see who they’re from, and just like that, the universe itself sours cupcake time.
29 NEW MESSAGES.
(19) VAMP MAN
(10) THE ASS COLLECTOR
Gavin and Adrian. A little tape recorder icon blinked in the top corner.
(13) NEW VOICEMAILS.
All from Gavin—earning him the winner of most missed messages.
My thumb twitches, accidentally hitting Adrian’s message slot. I’m met with his last sent message inside a green chat bubble.
>Your silence is not amusing. I’m disappointed, given how expressive you were last night at Chambers. CALL ME.
Apparently, the theme of the day is what the hell Kokoa has done last night. I refuse to conjure up possibilities of what happened at Chambers—an exclusive hoity toity lounge in which I’d first embarrassed myself in front of the dragon. The debate of whether or not to call was short lived. Lucas gets the idea to check his phone too. He’s shaking his head absently as he scrolls then freezes at something he’s discovered.
“What?” I whisper, and don’t dare open anything else. Lucas just slides his device across the table. I watch him scrub his face hard, groaning.
“So fucking stupid,” he mutters. His phone is opened to the call log.
75 OUTGOING CALLS to... Yasmin.
“I’m such an idiot.” He slouches back, clenching his scruffy jaw. “I don’t even remember what the hell I said, if she picked up...” Aquamarine eyes widen. “Do you think I told her about you and I...?”
“Gods, no!” I cut in. “Her and all of our friends would have tracked us down if they knew. Onyx and Heidi definitely would’ve spoke up about it.”
Lucas nods, slightly relieved. I crush it when I tell him what Veronica said. During, I click off the missed messages, leaving them unopened, proving Lucas is the bravest out of the two.
The title is soon chucked once we get outside.