Forced Proximity (Bluebell House Duet Book 1)
Forced Proximity: Chapter 12

Sleep was only marginally easier to achieve that night, and only because I was exhausted from not sleeping the night before. Even so, I woke myself up at least five times with nightmares. By morning I was almost more tired for fighting with my sheets and running from invisible bad guys than if I hadn’t slept at all.

It was a worry. My nightmares had been awful right after the attack, when I woke up in hospital and came to terms with what had happened. When the doctors explained how close I’d come to dying, I was haunted by the most disturbing dreams and eventually prescribed medication to help me sleep dreamlessly. I hadn’t needed to take those pills for a few months, though, and no longer had them.

Stupid me. I wasn’t healed; I’d just repressed the trauma and Connor’s gun in my face ripped it all right back to the surface.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Brodie greeted me when I dragged my feet into the kitchen not long after sunrise.

I paused, squinting at him, and then checked the time on my phone. Yep, sun had just come up and it was the weekend. What the fuck was he doing awake so early? Andrew sat beside him at the kitchen table, sipping something hot from a mug. Did we get a coffee machine?

“Give her a minute to wake up,” Andrew scolded, putting his mug down, then smacking the back of Brodie’s head with a rolled-up newspaper. “She’s not used to your level of permanent energy, bro. Fuck it, neither am I. I forgot what a pain in the ass you can be.”

Brodie just laughed, a warm, easy sound. “Don’t lie. You missed me, Drew.”

“What…” I started to say, then yawned. “What the fuck is going on?” I tried again.

Andrew gave Brodie a pointed look, and the Bloodstone Sentinel himself jumped up to grab a premade iced coffee from the huge refrigerator.

“Brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso, right?” he asked, presenting me with the coffee and grinning like a goofball.

I accepted it and moved to sit at the table when he gestured for me to join them. “Thanks,” I murmured, taking a sip. “That was thoughtful of you.”

“We figured you’d need it,” Andrew said absentmindedly as he read his newspaper like a sixty-year-old man. “After the night you had.”

I winced. That told me all I needed to know about how thin the walls were. “Sorry. It’s not usually so bad, but⁠—”

“Connor made things worse.” Andrew cut me off with a nod and had me wondering if he somehow knew what had happened to me at Tennessee Hallows College. “Understandable.”

I cleared my throat, searching for a change of subject. “How come you guys are awake so early? Do you have a weekend class?” Some people did, but it wasn’t super common from what I’d seen last weekend.

“Nope, I’ve got an audition to go to,” Brodie replied with an excited smile. “My agent is picking me up in an hour or so. It’s a really exciting new role, and I’m up against some huge names. Wanna help me run lines to prep? Andrew fucking sucks at this.”

Confused, I blinked between them both, then took a huge gulp of coffee. Maybe I was still half-asleep.

“A new role?” I asked, unable to help myself. “Not Bloodstone?”

Brodie shook his head. “Nope, it’s totally different. Female-focused romantic drama adapted from a novel. I’m auditioning for one of the main love interests, a snowboarder.” He slid a thick wad of paper across the table to me. “Have a look, tell me what you think.”

My jaw dropped as I read the title and all the Confidential stamps littering the first page. “Um, Brode, I can’t read this! It’s⁠—”

“Protected under that NDA you signed,” he replied with a smirk. “You’re fine. Go ahead. My role would be Drex Slater.”

Shocked, I looked back at the script he’d given me to read. Funnily enough, I was familiar with the source material as a romance novel on my e-reader…but had no idea it was being made into a movie. This was huge. And perfect for Brodie to break away from superhero typecasting, too.

“Do you have any plans today, Evelyn?” Andrew asked, pulling my attention from the script I’d just started leafing through. “After you help Brodie run lines, of course.”

I shook my head. “Not really. I’d kind of like to do some work to tidy this place up but need to get supplies. Is there a hardware store nearby?”

He gave a small nod, putting his newspaper down. “Yes, there’s one in town. You can’t go alone, though, and I have a polo match.”

Brodie scoffed a laugh. “Because you were ever an option to head into town, Knightsbridge. Ethan can take her in when he wakes up.”

I frowned, rubbing at my temples. “Why can’t I go alone?” Aside from the fact I wouldn’t want to, no one knew I was even in Vermont, let alone attending Meadowridge. I was safe…at least I was pretty sure I was. Unless Andrew really did know about the crazy fuck who’d shot up my last college in his attempt to kill me…

He met my gaze across the table, his expression unreadable. Then his jaw tightened slightly. “Because how will you get there, for starters? And then how will you carry all your supplies? Not to go sounding antifeminist but surely it’d help to bring some muscle along to do the heavy lifting?”

Okay, he had valid points. And I didn’t hate the idea of going into town with Ethan, since I had spent far too long thinking about that latest kiss in the library again. Maybe we needed to finally talk things out. Or fuck.

I knew which one had my vote.

“Fine. I’ll wait for Ethan if he has a car. We can pick up some groceries, too. Do you guys have any allergies or whatever?”

“Just Connor, no shellfish. But I can write you a list,” Andrew offered, pulling out his phone. “What’s your phone number?”

I recited it out loud and noticed Brodie saved it to his phone as well. When I gave him a look, he just shrugged as if to say, it’s fine, we’re besties now.

Andrew muttered something about putting together a shopping and supply list, then washed his mug and left the kitchen.

“So…will you help me prepare for my audition?” Brodie asked once we were alone. “The excerpt is highlighted on page forty-seven.”

I flipped through to the highlighted scene, then snorted a laugh. “You had Andrew reading lines with you? Did he use a girl voice or…?” Because the piece in question was Brodie’s character interacting with the female main character. Flirting, to be precise.

Brodie pouted. “I asked him to, but he wouldn’t do it. No wonder I couldn’t feel the scene.”

Chuckling, I took another sip of my coffee and sighed. “I guess I can help, seeing as you did buy me coffee. I should warn you, though, I’m a crappy actress.”

“You couldn’t possibly be worse than Andrew,” Brodie replied enthusiastically, tapping the page. “Start here when you’re ready.”

For the next hour, I ran lines with Brodie and tried really fucking hard to remember that we were acting and Brodie wasn’t flirting with me. I had fun with it, but I was already quietly relieved when his agent arrived to drive him to the audition.

My phone chimed five minutes later, and I pulled it out to see that Andrew had started a group text thread.

Below there was a very long list of what looked like mostly health foods, including five different protein powders. Holy fuck. I was definitely going to have to sneak some junk food in there, or the weeks of my periods would be a bloodbath. And I wasn’t even talking about literal blood.

Another message popped up a second later.

Even Cinderella…? That motherfucker. I was really starting to hate Connor Sullivan.

You pulled a gun on me; I poison your food. It was called balance.

Or karma.

And sleep with one eye open.

Well, fuck. When Ethan took charge like that, it had me imagining him in charge in other ways, and if I didn’t get laid soon, my lack of sleep was going to be the least of my worries.

Racing to my room, I grabbed my shoes and bag before checking my reflection in the bathroom and deciding that would have to do. There was no hiding the lack of sleep reflected in dark circles under my eyes or how pale my normally tanned skin looked. Ethan hadn’t appeared turned off by my haggard appearance yet, and I was too exhausted for more than the minimal effort.

Okay, maybe lip gloss because I wasn’t a complete troll.

There was no one downstairs when I walked through, and I headed out front to replace Ethan was already parked and waiting. I eyed his ride, a black Suburban, with heavily tinted windows, looking like a I travel with bodyguards style of celebrity car.

“Nice ride,” I said as Ethan moved around to open my door for me. “Is this yours?” I hadn’t known many teachers who could afford a car this fancy.

“Nope. It’s mine.”

I closed my eyes at the familiar, annoying voice behind me. Connor had followed me out of the house and was apparently pushing to be murdered today. Not that he was worth a lifetime in jail.

Ethan looked apologetic as he took my hand and led me to the passenger side. “Sorry, it’s bulletproof, and we wouldn’t fit much in my Porsche. More importantly, I want you to be safe.”

I eyed him closely, wondering why they’d think I needed a bulletproof car to be safe. Did they know about the shooting at my last school? Was my cover blown already?

No. They’d have said something if they knew.

Most probably it was how I’d reacted to the gun being pulled in my face, and they assumed this would keep me from another panic attack. Actually…knowing it was bulletproof did ease a small sliver of tension I’d been carrying about leaving the school.

“Thanks, that does make me feel safer.”

Ethan smiled, and after ensuring I was buckled in, strolled around to the driver’s side.

The back door opened as he got in, and I spun to see Connor sliding onto the seat. “What the hell are you doing?” I asked, annoyed that he was here. It might be his car, but dangerous or not, I’d rather take a fucking bicycle than drive with this asshole.

“I need some shit from the store,” he said simply, relaxing against the leather. “You’ll barely even notice that I’m here.”

Right. Because it was easy to forget six and half feet of asshole, who looked like a Greek god, with the personality of a garden gnome.

Ethan looked equally unimpressed. “Act right when you’re out with us, Connor.”

Connor held both hands up in front of him as he shrugged. “I’ll be a perfect angel as long as Evelyn is one.”

Deciding that my best bet of both of us surviving was for me to ignore him. With that in mind, I focused on Ethan. “What classes other than Economics of Crime do you teach here?”

There was a snort from the back. “Finally remembered that he’s a teacher, did you?”

Ethan took a cue from me, ignoring Connor as he proceeded to explain all the courses he was involved in at the college. He was awfully young to be such a highly regarded professor in an even higher regarded college, but apparently, he’d graduated high school two years early—and was somewhat of a genius.

He never said it in so many words, but I could read between the lines.

It was relaxed and easy to converse with Ethan, made even more enjoyable by how frustrated Connor got every time he made a comment and we continued to pretend he wasn’t there.

With his good looks, money, and power, it was clear that he’d rarely—if ever—had his presence ignored. But none of that shit would fly with me. You had to bring more to the table than superficial status symbols for me to give you my time or energy.

Sure, it might be a bit petty, but he’d been asking for it. If he wanted to be treated with respect, then he needed to return the favor. And soon.

Otherwise, the next six months of us all living in Bluebell House were going to feel like ten years.