Sinclair

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Anxiety

SINCLAIR HASN'T TAKEN his eyes off of Timothée. Even after Carla and Bruiser come out of the bar, trailed by Sonny and a few other guys. His body is rigid when Carla, after hugging me tightly, ushers both of us inside and out of the rain. When her eyes moved over to Timothée, still standing awkwardly by the car, unable to fully meet Sinclair's eyes, she seems to get the hint and guides him inside, too.

Now it's just the five of us in the bar, standing in an emotionally charged circle. Carla has gone off in the back to call the guys Sinclair has sent off to search for me back.

Bruiser clears his throat, looking back and forth between Timothée and Sinclair for a bit before his eyes settle on me. The blue dye in his hair has completely disappeared.

"You said this is Timothée, right?"

I nod. "It is."

Sinclair sucks in a breath, studying him hard. Then he swallows.

"Are you really...I swear if you're fucking with me-"

"I have no reason to lie about something like this," Timothée snaps back. His eyebrows are drawn together and his hands are balled into fists at his side. His body language screams of someone who's pissed, but he doesn't look angry to me. He looks like a scared child in this moment.

Him and Sinclair both.

And I'm reminded again of how unhappy their childhoods were. How dark and cruel. I'm reminded that children were forced to cope with a life most adults wouldn't be unable to handle. They only had each other through it all and then some man with a God complex had come through and upheaved their lives.

I grab for Bruiser and Sonny. "We'll give you two time to talk."

As I push the two of them toward the backroom Carla's coming out of, Sinclair reaches over and grips my arm. He looks lost when our eyes meet, his chest rising and falling quicker as if he's moments away from panic.

I lean in and whisper, "This is the chance you've wanted for a long time, Sinclair. Take it. He's missed you, too." When I lean back, there are tears glistening in his eyes. "I'll be in the back."

"So Timothée was still alive all this time." Sonny shakes his head in disbelief, blowing out a breath. "Fuck."

"I couldn't believe it either when he told me," I agree. "Even though they look alike."

Carla, who's sitting beside me with her arm around my shoulder, squeezes me tightly. "Are you okay, querida? Do you need anything?"

I shake my head. "Honestly, Carla, all I want is to go home, bury myself in bed and stay there a couple days."

Being kidnapped was scary, and it's definitely not an experience I ever want to try again, but I'm okay. I mean, I'm probably going to have some trouble sleeping through the night for the fear of a group of men beating down my door from now on, but other than that, I'm fine. I'm alive and in one piece, at least.

What I want more than crying or panicking is to hear Mom and Odin's voices. Better yet, what I want is to see their faces. The entire time I was in captivity, I thought of the two of them just as often if not more than I thought of Sinclair.

"You need real rest, though," Sonny says, giving Carla a look. "You shouldn't be here right now. I'll take you home." He looks over at Bruiser. "Tell Sinclair."

Bruiser agrees and in the end, so do I. It feels like the events from the past few days have started catching up with me. My body is so leaden and my eyes are so heavy, it's like I've participated in the Olympics rather than just sat and done nothing but be afraid.