Jaden by Tijan

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was wrong. I knew the second I shut that door, but I pressed my hand against it, and I stayed there, needing it for strength. Breathe in. Breathe out. Everything was going crazy inside me, but this—choosing and saying the words—this was the craziest thing.

“Sheldon.” Corrigan sounded so timid behind me. He was uncertain.

I swung around and shook my head. “I lied to him.”

“What?” He went still.

“I lied. I’m sorry, but I did.”

“Why did you—”

I thrust an arm out, pointing in the direction of where Bryce had gone. “It’s because of him. All of this is because of him. She did it. That Maria person. There’s a text saying something about just this thing, about hurting someone and making it look like it was me. They did it.” My chest was heaving. “Because of him. So that he would stay with her, and I would go away.”

“Are you kidding? That’s what he said?”

“It’s because of him.” But even as I said that, I bit my tongue. That wasn’t true either.

Corrigan echoed my sentiments when he bit out, “That reasoning is bullshit.Thisis bullshit. What the fuck, Sheldon? Get your head on right—”

“I’m all screwed up!”

“Then unscrew yourself!” he shouted right back at me. “Yes, there’s a psychotic person out there—”

I interrupted, my heart pounding, “Who killed Grace because of him! To hurt me! Because of him, because Guadalupe wanted him. Not because of me. Do you have any idea how Grace’s death has been weighing on me?” My voice shook. “She haunts me, Corrigan. I feel her everywhere with me. It’s like she’s watching me, judging me that I’m not finding out who killed her fast enough.”

That could all be over. If it were true, if it had really been Maria . . . would she leave then?

“Sheldon.”

I closed my eyes against the pity I heard from him. Gritting my teeth, I wanted to yell at him. I tried to muster up the courage. I wasn’t to be pitied. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t a victim, but when I opened my mouth to throw some blistering retort back, there was nothing.

I was empty.

Then I felt the tears. The first one welled up and clung to my eye, right on the corner. It held strong. I grinned, even my damn tear was too stubborn to fall.

“Sheldon.” Corrigan moved closer behind me.

I held my breath, but whispered, “Don’t.”

He rested his hand on my shoulder and kept it there. I squeezed my eyes tighter. I wouldn’t cry. No more—then they were sliding down, and I couldn’t stop them. I was crying. I was falling, and Corrigan caught me under my knees. His other hand circled around my shoulders, and he lifted me, carrying me to the bed.

To be honest, I didn’t care where he was taking me. My arms wrapped around him, and I let my forehead rest against his chest. I was back home. I was in his arms, and I felt a small sigh of contentment forming, mixing with all the hollow feelings I had going on.

I had missed him.

He held me during the night. I started to move around, growing restless later, I wasn’t sure how long it was. He pulled me back into his arms and smoothed his hand down my face. “Sleep, Sheldon. I know you chose out of anger. I know it wasn’t the truth. I’ll tell Bryce tomorrow.”

I heard the regret in his voice.

Then he added, “But I need to be with you tonight.” His arms tightened. “I need to hold you for one last night.”

I couldn’t sleep after that. Turning to face him squarely, we were both lying on our sides. I lifted a hand and touched the side of his face. We were just holding the other. I remembered the hunger from him earlier, and I felt the same stirrings in me again.

I said, “I don’t know who I’m going to choose.” Those damn tears were coming back. I felt them. “I can’t lie. I haven’t chosen because I have no idea. I love both of you. Bryce is passionate, like a thunderstorm.” And Corrigan was tender, like a gentle rainfall. Both were loving. Both were my other half. “I’m sorry, Corrigan.”

“Sheldon.” He sounded uncertain.

“Yes?”

“I’ve never told you exactly how I feel.”

I held my breath. Was he . . .?

“I know you’re going to pick, and I know it’s going to be him, but.” He scooted closer. An inch separated us. I could feel his warm breath on my face. It was warming me, igniting a fire inside me. “Can I—” He bit off, his eyes clouded with doubt.

“What?”

I was staring right into his eyes. I started to plead with him. I didn’t say the words, but I was saying it with my eyes. He saw it, and he closed his eyes, a sound of relief coming from him. I felt his entire body relax. Then he inched close, so close, so slowly, until I felt his lips on mine. He held there, waiting for my answer.

I responded. I opened my mouth and moved against him, applying the gentlest of pressure to him. It was what I needed.

Then his hand came to my side, and I gasped. The feeling sent a rush of tingles through me. It was like I hadn’t been touched in so long, like this was my first time with a boy. A small dose of adrenaline surged in my blood. I was growing heated from the excitement. I wanted him that night. If this was the only time, I wanted to make it last.

Corrigan cupped the back of my head and rolled so he was above me. I turned to my back and held his face to mine. His lips explored mine. When his tongue slipped inside, it was natural. This was new, but it felt like we’d been kissing like this forever. A surreal emotion was winding around me, dragging me further into a spell.

I needed his touch. I just needed more of him.

“Sheldon,” he whispered against my lips.

I kissed him harder. There were words I wanted to say. They wanted to spill out, and I had to hold them back, not until I knew for sure, so I kissed him again, and again, and again. I didn’t stop kissing him. Not after his shirt was lifted free, not after I felt his skin against mine, and he was pressing me into the bed. Not after he trailed kisses down my throat, then to the valley between my breasts and over each of them. Not after he continued caressing me, not after his hands circled my breasts, cupping them and rubbing over my nipple. Not after his hand slid inside my shorts, and I felt him rest there, right at my entrance. He circled it with his finger, rubbing over it, and I was panting.

I was silently begging for more, but I still bit down on my lip. If I let those words slip out, I didn’t know what else would slip out. Then I felt his fingers move inside me, and he waited, stretching my insides.

I could only pant. I lay there, unable to do anything as overwhelming pleasure was coursing through me. With my eyelids so heavy, I looked down. He looked up. His mouth hovered over me, watching as his fingers continued sliding in and out, building. As our gazes held, his eyes were so damn dark, and then he lowered so his lips were there.

I almost screamed at the touch of them.

I reached out, needing to hold onto something. My hands first went to his shoulders, but he pressed his lips harder. His fingers kept moving, in and out.

“Corrigan,” I finally gasped. I could barely talk.

As his tongue swept over me, tasting me, my hand formed a fist on his shoulder. Without looking at me, he grabbed my hand and guided me to hold onto the headboard. My god. I kept panting. My body was overheated. The pleasure kept building and building. I didn’t know how much more I could take, but he kept going. His tongue and fingers. He kept stretching me, pushing harder, then he would wait and pause when I was near the edge. A beat would pass. I would come down a little, then he would work me back up.

When he finally allowed me to come, I was spent. I collapsed, and I gasped, drawing in mouthfuls of air and wave after wave rocked my body. I tingled everywhere, where he was still resting on me, where his fingers remained inside me, the slight kiss from his lips on my stomach.

I felt everywhere.

“Corrigan.” I wanted to return the favor, and I reached for him.

He shook his head, evading my hands. He grinned at me and said, “Hold on.” Then his fingers started again.

My hands clung to the headboard once again.

He never stopped. For the entire night, he would wait until I came. Then he would start again. When I would reach for him, and at one point, I wound my legs around him to hold him still so I could, he’d only grabbed my hands once more. Eventually, I was flipped over, and he started from behind.

I screamed into my bed.

I wanted the feel of him. I wanted the taste of him. But Corrigan held himself away from me. He pleased me until I fell asleep, completely exhausted from our night.

When I awoke, he was gone.

I sat up, seeing that it was morning, but I couldn’t move. My body was sore, but it felt satiated. Images of the night flashed in my mind again, coming at me with warp speed. I felt every climax again, every brush of his lips, every thrust of his fingers.

I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling of when he had finally moved up and rested himself against me. He didn’t go in. I begged him to, but he didn’t. That was when he stretched back over top of me. His hands dug into my hair, and he started to kiss me again. Our mouths fought against each other for control, but it was the delicious type of fight. No one won, not then, but as he grinded into me, I felt his swift intake of breath as he came.

I still wanted him in me. I reached down, but Corrigan caught my hand.

He panted against me, saying, “Not until you choose.”

His words should’ve drenched me in reality, with what we were doing and Bryce in the room next door, but they didn’t. I turned to him. My mouth opened. I was ready to choose right then and there, but he shook his head. “No, Sheldon.”

“Why?” I was aching inside.

“Because you haven’t let him in yet.”

“What?”

“You have to drop the wall. You have to let him in. Only then you can really know.” He spoke so softly, holding the side of my face as he gazed down at me with such tenderness. “The wall will come down now or later, but it will one day. I don’t want to be with you when it does. You need to embrace all those feelings you’ve locked up.”

But I couldn’t. I tried to explain it to him. No matter how much I tried, the wall was there . . . except it wasn’t. There’d been a time when it was gone between him and me. Bryce had been the old Bryce. And I’d been so scared then. Hell, I had been terrified.

I couldn’t argue with what Corrigan was saying so I only sighed and rested my head against his chest. He held me there, his arm stroking up and down my arm for the rest of the night.

I wanted to tell him that Bryce and I had our time. That it hadn’t worked, and it probably wouldn’t any more, but I couldn’t.

“Sheldon?”

Bryce tapped on my door. I braced myself. Guilt, regret. I knew they were coming at the sound of his voice, but they didn’t. I felt nothing except gratefulness. I was thankful for the night.—”Sheldon?”

He started to turn the knob.

My eyes bulged out. “Uh . . . wait!” I cursed, needing to lower the panic in my voice. “I mean, let me get dressed.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Cursing, I hurried to change. Then sprayed perfume on me at the last moment. Shit. I smelled like sex. I knew I did, but I was already going for the door. Turning the handle, I opened it, and Bryce straightened from where he’d been leaning. His gaze raked over me, then his jaw firmed.

He asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“What?”

“Leave. Do you want me to leave?” He indicated his room. “You chose, Sheldon.”

“Oh.” My god. I smacked my forehead. “No, I’m sorry. I—I was mad. I took it out on you. I . . .” my stomach dropped. “I’m so sorry, Bryce. I didn’t choose last night. I—”

He waved a hand, cutting me off. “Okay.” He nodded to himself. “Okay.”

“I . . .” I had no fucking idea what to say. “Corrigan says I have a wall blocking you. He said I won’t let you in because I don’t want to feel stuff.”

He didn’t comment. He didn’t move either. He didn’t do anything.

I pressed my hand to my stomach, then pressed harder. It had started doing flip-flops. “I—” A memory flashed in my mind.

“No,” Bryce said firmly, daring me to argue with him. “I said ‘make love,’ and you said ‘have sex.’ They’re different.”

“It’s not that different. It’s still screwing.”

“No,” he spelled it out, saddened. “You screw me. I make love to you.”

“Um.” Mena came up from the stairs and stopped, seeing us. A bewildered expression came over her and she stuffed her hand behind her back, her eyes went wide before skirting to the side. “The cops are here.” She bit her lip, but looked at Bryce. “They’re asking for you, but I think they want you, too.” She directed the last bit to me.

I shared a look with Bryce. Cops coming here was never a good sign.

He ran a hand over his face. “Okay. Uh, okay. Let’s go.”

The three of us trailed in a single line to the main living room. They weren’t in the entrance foyer, and as we passed it, I felt a smart-ass remark on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed it. Not the time. Not the place.

Then we were there, and the cops all sat up from the couch. The female one –I still refused to learn her name— signaled to Bryce. “Can I talk to you privately?”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” He gestured to the group. “Unless you’re going to arrest me as a suspect, I’m sick of this. Everything you’re here about has to do with everyone here. They all deserve to know so whatever you have to ask me, ask me here. In front of everyone.”

She pressed her lips together, then let out a short burst of steam. “Fine.” She cleared her throat, tugging at the collar of her shirt. “Guadalupe Ramirez is missing.” She searched everyone, studying all of our reactions, but there were none.

Corrigan shrugged. “Yeah. So? We already knew that.”

“So . . .” Her eyes narrowed, resting on Bryce. “Has she contacted you lately?”

Bryce didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” He glanced at me, but he was speaking to her. “She’d been texting, emailing, and calling me until two days ago. So was Maria, until we stole her phone. After that, I started getting texts and calls. The voicemails sounded like Maria’s voice. I’m assuming she got a new phone.”

“Maria?” The male cop frowned, pulling out his phone. “Her assistant Maria?”

“Yes.” Bryce kept going, sounding so tired. “Maria is a huge part of Lupe’s life. She’s obsessed with her. Guadalupe was calling me and asking me to come back to her. At first she was threatening Sheldon, saying she’ll sue. When I kept ignoring her, she started pleading. Now all she does is go back and forth between threatening me, saying she’ll hurt Sheldon if I don’t do what she wants, and begging me to come back.”

“What do you say when you respond?”

“I don’t.” Bryce shot him a questionable look. “I’ve never responded. To her or Maria. You have Maria’s phone. You can check that.” He rubbed at his forehead.

“Okay.” The two detectives shared a look. “We’re going to be very honest with you.” She glanced at me. “The phone you got was a goldmine. You were right. There were emails, text messages, the whole nine yards of enough evidence to implicate the assistant in Grace’s murder. They talked about Grace even. They said she was a good subject,” she hesitated, “but we’re wondering how they even knew about Grace.”

“They were there.” The words burst out of me before I realized it myself. Oh my god. They were. I couldn’t believe it. “The night Grace confessed, they were there. We were at the hospital because of what happened to Corrigan, which—”

The female held up a hand. “We’re ahead of you there. We believe they did cut your car’s brakes. There’s elevator footage of Maria going down to the basement with a backpack and twenty minutes later, coming back up. Her backpack is missing so we don’t know what she did with it, but we’re guessing she had things in there to do the cutting, and then she got rid of all the evidence.”

The male added, “There’s a dumpster on the garage level. We’re assuming she tossed everything there.”

“And they’re missing? Both of them?”

The female nodded. “Yes. We’re sorry we dropped the ball on this. We really thought it was you, and of course, we can’t offer you an official apology—”

“—at least not until we find Guadalupe Ramirez and Maria Ramirez.”

“They have the same last name?” I turned to Bryce. “Are they family?”

“We’re looking into that, but it might comfort you to know that Maria Ramirez has had psychological assessments done in the past year. She’s gone into more than four treatment hospitals. None of them will release information, but if we can prove she’s dangerous, they’ll break confidentiality.” The two detectives grimaced at the same time. “All we have is circumstantial evidence right now, nothing to fully warrant doing a BOLO. However…” The female forced her mouth to grin, though her face was stiff. There were bags under her eyes. “We can do something helpful, at least for you.” She gestured to my ankle. “We can remove that today. We have enough so we can take you off the suspect list.”

“What?” I couldn’t—no—”Really?” But wait. “What about my hair, prints, and you said there was video footage of me?”

As the male officer bent down and started to remove my monitor, the female explained, “We lied about the video footage. There is video footage, but it’s more of a shadow. We don’t have enough to go on with it. As for the DNA, yours wasn’t enough of a match. And we think your hair was there from past visits. We know you two were friends. It won’t add up in a court, especially with other evidence being much more explicit.”

“Wait. You said my purse was in her car.”

“Yeah.” They both frowned and didn’t answer right away. Then the female confessed, “We lied about the purse. We never had it.”

“But . . .” I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. “So, this is done? I’m done?” We knew who had killed Grace? I looked at Corrigan, who was frowning to himself. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t look happy. When he saw my look, he turned away.

What the fuck?

I started for him, but the female officer stopped me. She said, “Actually, we’re here on another sort of business.” She turned until she was looking right at Corrigan. When he realized, he narrowed his eyes. She asked, “How well do you know Michael Reveritt?”

“Ritt?”

I shared a confused look with Corrigan, then saw a speculative expression cross over Bryce’s face.

Corrigan shrugged. “He’s my fraternity brother. Why?”

“We questioned some of your brothers today. They told us that you and Reveritt haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not the president, but I’m one of their leaders. With Sheldon and what’s going on, I took courses online so I could be here with her. The two leaders graduated last year, and the guys who were supposed to step up, just aren’t, so it’s been Ritt and me. Why? What does this have to do with anything?”

She hesitated a moment, then her partner finished with my monitor and stood up. He nodded to her. “All right. Did your fraternity brother ever talk about Sheldon at all?”

Corrigan cast me another puzzled look.

He wasn’t alone. I had no clue.

He scratched behind his ear. “I mean . . . yeah. He was interested last year. He talked about her a lot, but Bryce came back from Europe and I think things stalled on his part. Sheldon was never interested in him. I know he hit on her, but I don’t think anything came out of it.”

He gestured to me. Everyone’s eyes trailed to me, and I shook my head. “No. Yes, Ritt’s a creeper. He always was, but nothing unusual to me. He was drinking a ton when we saw him before the party the other night—”

“Party.” The female detective straightened abruptly. Her hand fell from where it had been resting on her hip. She asked me, “You went to the party, too?”

“Yeah.” I pointed to Denton, Bryce, Corrigan, and Mena. “We were all there. We stopped at the frat house to get Corrigan, but Ritt was there. He was drinking a lot.” I turned to Corrigan. “I just assumed there was a house fight or something.”

Corrigan frowned. “There was a disagreement, but it didn’t have anything to do with Sheldon. Michael wanted to use some of the house’s funds for other things. I said no. I said the house needed to keep doing what we’re doing, hosting parties, charity events, stuff like that.”

“Other things? You mean like drugs?”

Corrigan grimaced. “Well.” He let out a deep breath. “I mean, he might’ve mentioned something about pot, but I think he was more thinking about anything to do with study enhancers.”

The detectives both lingered, staring at him, with speculative looks. It was obvious one of the drugs mentioned wasn’t marijuana. I didn’t want to know what else Ritt had been about, but I knew Corrigan would never allow that.

“Well.” The female sounded disappointed. “I wasn’t looking for information where we’d have to do surveillance. Your boy wasn’t at the house when you went there, was he? After whatever party all you went to last night?”

“Oh.” Corrigan visibly relaxed. “No, he wasn’t there. We have no idea where he went.”

“And we can answer that.” The officer’s tone was no-nonsense. “We have him. He was driving recklessly, and one of our squad cars picked him up. Your boy’s in the drunk tank, and then after that, he’ll be brought up on other charges. He didn’t come in willingly.” She skimmed a hard eye to me. “Nothing from you? You have nothing to add about this guy?”

I shook my head. “Like I said, he was a creeper, but that was it.”

“Well, this creeper had about fifty surveillance photos of you.”

Bryce reacted first. He stepped forward. “Wait. What?”

“No way.” Corrigan shook his head, but there was doubt there. I saw it, and when he glanced at me, it transferred to me.

Memories of Ritt were coming back to me, but there was nothing that stood out. He was odd at times, and he hit on me when he knew I wasn’t interested, but surveillance photos? I shrugged, looking at Corrigan and then Bryce. I didn’t remember anything that would’ve indicated something like this.

“Sheldon?” the female cop asked. “Are you thinking back to anything?”

“Yeah and no. This is a complete shock. I—what? Surveillance of me?”

She nodded, a grave expression on her face. “At your house.”

I sucked in my breath. My house?

“At your dad’s house.”

Oh my god.

“Here. The night you guys came here. He was down the street. He caught the whole thing on camera. There are others too, but basically he’s documented almost everything except what’s been going on within the walls.”

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“Guys like these usually don’t.” She sighed. “All right. I think we have what we need. If you guys think of anything else, let us know.” She lifted an eyebrow at Corrigan.

His jaw clenched. That was his only reaction.

She added, “I shouldn’t have to say this, but I’ve been warned it would be helpful if I did.” She took a breath. “So here goes: If there are any bruises on him because of you, you will only behelpinghis defense and not us. Do not lay a hand on that boy, if and when he’s released from our custody. Okay? I repeat, do not lay a hand on him. And besides, there are no pictures of Sheldon before Grace’s murder so right now we don’t think he had anything to do with it, but still.” She held a hand up, following her partner out the door. Then she added, “We’ll be having a chat with him once he’s awake and sober.”

Once the door closed, Corrigan stared at it. His arms were still crossed over his chest, and his shoulders were rigid, bunched forward.

I recognized that stance. It was when he was about to do something bad, something to get himself in trouble.

Bryce moved so he was standing beside him. Neither looked at the other, but I knew, I felt it in my gut, that they were thinking the same thing. Then Corrigan grunted, so softly so only the three of us heard him, “Well, fuck that. Once he’s out, we’re having our own chat.”

He looked up, and Bryce nodded.

Then they turned to me. I lifted my chin in a silent signal. I was in.