Page 1 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

Emery

I stare at the corner of the building that they disappeared behind, my mind already tattooing the memory of their backs as they leave me here, alone on the grass behind the coffee shop.

I’m terrified to move, terrified to breathe.

Terrified to move on from this exact moment, because how is the world still spinning?

It feels as though my entire world has come to a stop.

There is no breeze. No murmuring of voices from the hundred or so college students around the corner. No thud of my heart in my chest.

There. Is. Nothing.

They left me. They really fucking left me.

After they promised that I’m theirs. That they aren’t going anywhere. Nothing would take me away from them.

But not once, not a single time, did they say they would never walk away from me .

My lungs burn as I drag in a ragged breath, sobs lining up in my throat, just waiting to be let out. No, no, no, no. How? Why?

Why did I allow myself to believe in this fucked-up little bubble we created over the weekend? I fucking know better.

I fucking know better.

This shit never works out for me. Forever homes aren’t for real. No one ever keeps the strays.

Why the hell didn’t we have a single conversation about what our real lives are like?

Or… wait. Did my orphan bomb kill that for us?

Is this my fault? Did I fuck up by answering their questions?

Should I have told them then, before the weekend started, that I’m a student?

Would knowing from the beginning have changed things?

Would we have even had the weekend together?

Did I ruin this?

There is a vibration in my pocket and my heart leaps into my throat. With shaking fingers, I dig out my phone, only to have my soul completely and utterly crushed as Oakley’s name appears on my screen.

Oakley: Where are you?

My throat is tighter than a clamped vise as I force my thumbs across the screen and send a reply.

Me: Outside, around the corner.

And then I do the absolute stupidest thing imaginable—I leave the message thread with Oakley and go to the group chat with my daddies.

I scanned them all this morning but haven’t had a chance to respond.

It’s what I was supposed to be doing now, as I sipped my iced chocolate and listened to Oakley ramble about her thoughts on my weekend.

Darcy: Good morning, princess. Message us when you are awake.

Hudson: Kitten, don’t forget to start thinking about your rewards. You have quite a few to choose.

Derek: I have a reward selected.

Hudson: That leaves ten for the rest of us.

Derek: *Rolling eye emoji* Emery has plenty more opportunities to earn rewards. You’ll still be able to spoil her.

Xavier: Don’t forget to send photos of your marks.

The screen blurs and my stomach rolls as I swipe out and go into the messages Darcy has been sending me privately.

Darcy: I hope you slept well last night. I was up half the night remembering the way my ropes caressed your skin. I don’t think I have ever seen anything more beautiful than you, completely wrecked and bound with my art.

Darcy: I have booked us a table at Thai Orchid for 7, Tuesday. There are plenty of movies to watch at the theater a few blocks down. You can pick the movie.

Darcy: Have an amazing day today, princess. I’ll be thinking about you x

Then there is a link to what I assume is the theater for me to select our movie.

The only other separate messages I have are from yesterday from Derek, asking for my email address so that he can set me up on his Club Obsession account.

Other than that, they have stayed inside the group chat, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful.

I’m not sure I could take having private notes from each of them.

The messages are the closest things to love notes I have ever received, and I wish they were on paper so that I could add them to my scrapbook of sketches.

With every reread of Darcy’s messages, my heart pulses with a dull ache.

The tears that have threatened to spill over finally win their battle and roll down my cheeks.

I wrap my hand around the wrist with the bracelet, reminding myself that it’s still there, that I still have this part of them, at least.

How is this even happening?

“Emery, oh my god. What happened, are you okay?”

Two backpacks are dumped onto the grass beside me, and then Oakley is there, wrapping her arms around my upper body, pinning my arms to my sides.

My skin twinges under her touch, the cuts and bruises from the weekend protesting the pressure.

But the irritation barely even registers with the swell of feelings cresting, then crashing into me.

I drop my phone onto the grass between us and throw my arms around her as I bury my face into her shoulder, letting the waves take me under.

The sobs that leave my body are muffled by her shirt, and I know I’m leaving a snotty, teary mess all over her, but I don’t care.

I can’t. The only feeling inside of me right now is complete and utter despair.

“Shhh, Em. Just breathe. Breathe for me,” Oakley murmurs, rubbing her hand up and down my back while squeezing me to her with the other one. Every stroke reignites a tiny flare of the painful pleasure from the weekend, reminding me of everything that has been ripped away from me.

We stay there for I have no clue how long, but it’s long enough for pins and needles to set into my feet and for my back to ache.

Slowly, and with embarrassment dawning, I pull back from the hug.

Oakley follows suit and drops onto her butt on the grass, not even bothering to check the state of her shirt.

I check, and I definitely owe her dry cleaning, at a minimum. Fuck it, I’ll just add it to the other clothes I need to get cleaned.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I swipe at my eyes, then mimic her crisscross sitting position, plopping down so close to her that our shoulders brush as we stare out toward the quad.

“Was that them?” Her tone is even, almost flat, like she isn’t overly interested in the topic.

I pluck a blade of grass from the ground. “Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

No, but she deserves answers. “Apparently they teach here.”

She sucks in a sharp breath, but before she can ask another question, I continue. “They ended it, something about losing their jobs and me getting expelled.”

“Oh,” Oakley replies as she deflates. I can imagine her blue eyes all round and wide-eyed with her surprise.

“Okay, but something can be worked out, right? It’s not like you all knew who each other was that first night.

What were you supposed to do, give them your entire life story in between sucks and blows? ”

A startled laugh bursts from me but dies pretty quickly. “No, I don’t think so. They were very…resolute.”

The silence stretches, and eventually, I glance at her. Her eyes have lost focus as she stares off into the quad while biting her lower lip. I end up looking back out over the grass and try to let myself relax.

My fingers find their way back to my bracelet, and I trace over the cross, my fingertip searching out each individual letter.

D. H. D. X.

After several minutes of nothing, she pushes up onto her knees and leans toward me. Her action is so sudden and unexpected, I jolt, almost falling away from her. Concern flickers across her features for a moment, but she shakes it off.

“Okay, what’s the plan? Because I refuse to believe this is over.

You were so happy when you came home last night, exhausted, but happy.

Do you want to message or call them? Should we chase after them and get them to talk to you?

Do you want to go back to our place and skip the rest of the day?

Classes will just be introductions, and the syllabi will be online,” Oakley offers with a gentle smile.

“I’m also down to hire a hitman if you like.

My sister has a friend who has a connection. ”

I blink at her. Who even is this chick? First, she introduced me to SugarLife, and now she can hook me up with a hitman? “You know someone who has a connection to a hitman? Seriously?”

Oakley smiles sheepishly and shrugs one shoulder, her blonde hair swishing with the motion. “I mean, that’s an assumption on my part, but she has friends on the dark web, apparently. At least, that’s what I think I overheard.”

I can’t help but smile. “Thank you, but I’m good for now.”

Oakley grins at me. “No problem, bestie. So, class or back to the dorm?”

With a deep breath, I make the right decision, even though I want nothing more than to go back to my bedroom and sleep off this shit morning. My dream life is still my dream life, and it’s not going to start with burying my head in my pillows.

“Class. I’ll get through today and then decide what I’m doing next.”

“By the way, while you were out here, I got a text that your donut pillow arrived. You’re welcome.”

Chuckling, I stand. “Oaks, I think I’m going to keep you.”