Page 43 of Strange Seduction (Strange #2)

No answer. Not even a blink.

The air conditioner clicked on with a low hum. I stared at her for a long minute before pulling my phone from my pocket.

Georgia was six hours behind. It was just past eight o’clock at night. Alyssa should be home.

I dialed, but no answer. So I sent her a message:

Me : Emergency with Carm. Her dad died. Call me as soon as possible.

Instead, I called Jayda. She answered on the second ring, cheerful and distracted. “Theo. You know me and your friend are in the middle of—”

“Something happened,” I cut her off, not giving a fuck about her and Tyler’s drama. “Carmen’s dad passed. Her mom told me a few hours ago.”

A moment of silence.

Then, “Oh my God. Is she okay? Where is she?”

“In bed. She hasn’t moved. She’s not talking to me. Not eating. I thought maybe if she heard your voice, it’d help.”

Jayda’s tone softened immediately. “Put me on speaker.”

I set the phone down on the nightstand and turned the volume up.

“Carmen?” Jayda’s voice came through, warm and steady. “It’s me. Baby girl, I just heard. I’m so sorry.”

Still nothing.

I glanced at her—her eyes were open, staring past the window.

“Carmen, I know this hurts like hell,” Jayda continued, her voice wobbling just slightly. “And you don’t have to say anything. But I need you to listen to me, okay? We love you. We’re here for you. You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

Nothing.

Jayda tried again. “Remember when we were at Eden and I had to drive across state lines to my aunt’s funeral because my mom forgot to pick me up from school?

You stayed awake with me the whole ride, and you just let me lean into you, and I said, ‘It’s too big.

The sadness is too big.’ And you told me, ‘We’ll hold it together until you’re ready to hold it yourself. ’ So let us. Let Theo. Let me. Please.”

I reached for Carmen’s hand again, lacing our fingers together.

She didn’t pull away—but she didn’t hold on, either.

Jayda kept talking. Stories, memories, reassurances. For nearly fifteen minutes, she filled the silence Carmen refused to break. I think she hoped that the sound of home and the sound of someone who’d seen her through everything would bring her back.

It didn’t.

Eventually, Jayda sighed. “I’ll stay up. Call me again if she speaks. Or if she needs anything. Okay?”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Thanks, Jay.”

After I hung up, I lay back down beside Carmen.

Her fingers twitched faintly in mine, and for a second I thought—

But no. She was still gone somewhere inside herself.

So I stayed.

Curled behind her, still holding her hand, I watched the seconds crawl across the clock. I whispered things she didn’t answer. Kissed her temple. Got up to check if she’d try the food again. Sat back down when she left it untouched.

Maybe Izzy could help?

I hesitated. She had a toddler now. The last thing I wanted was to drag her into this when she was likely surviving on two hours of sleep.

But Carmen needed someone.

I unlocked my phone again and pulled up Izzy’s number. The last message I sent was just a heart emoji after she texted me a picture of my godson and Darwin building blocks. Carmen had smiled so big when she saw it. That was only… God. A week ago.

I typed:

Me: Hey. I know it’s late there. I’m sorry. Carmen’s dad passed. She won’t talk to me. She’s not eating or sleeping.

I stared at the screen. Then added:

Me: I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious. She’s… not okay.

The message sent, and I sat back, phone resting on my thigh.

The screen lit up with a typing bubble. Then a reply:

Izzy: Give me two seconds. I’m calling.

I moved quickly, pressing answer before the first ring finished.

“Izzy—”

“Put me on speaker,” she commanded. I could hear the rustling of fabric and Darius whimpering softly in the background.

I set the phone near Carmen again.

“Carm,” Izzy said gently. “It’s me, baby. I just heard. I’m so, so sorry.”

The softest breath escaped Carmen’s lips. Barely noticeable—but it was something.

“I’m holding Darius right now. He’s got the hiccups, and he won’t sleep unless I hum that stupid song you taught him. You remember the one? The one you made up about peanut butter sandwiches?”

Her brows drew together. Another breath.

I leaned in, holding mine.

Izzy kept going. “He’s already got your attitude, by the way. And he’s got a big old temper like you, too.”

The silence stretched again. “He wants to say hi. Go on. Tell your TiTi hi.” Izzy pushed.

The cutest little Hello came through the phone, and Carmen’s lip trembled. Her eyes, still glossy and red, shifted toward the phone.

Izzy’s voice softened. “I know it hurts. I know you probably feel like you’re floating outside your body right now. But you’re not alone. You’ve got me, and you’ve got Theo, who I’m sure is pacing and brooding and making that dramatic worried face he does.”

I cracked a tiny smile despite everything.

Izzy whispered, “Talk to him, Carm. Or me. Or Jayda. Or just breathe. That’s enough for tonight, okay?”

I looked at her, waiting.

Her lips parted.

Then—finally—a whisper, “Izzy…”

Her voice cracked, but it was there.

I reached for her hand again, and this time, she held on. Weakly.

Izzy exhaled on the line, thick with relief. “Hey, sunshine.”

Carmen didn’t say anything more, but the tears started to fall again. Not silent this time—shaky, trembling sobs that cracked from her chest and into the open.

I pulled her into my arms.

She buried her face into my neck and cried like she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

And I held her. Rocked her. Let her grieve however she needed to.

For the first time in twelve hours, I saw her. Not numb. Not frozen.

Just broken.

Carmen eventually drifted off again, tucked into my side, her lashes still wet, her breathing uneven. I didn’t move. Not even when the phone buzzed softly with a new message from Jayda.

Jay: She okay?

I texted back with one hand.

Me: She cried herself out. She’s sleeping.

Her reply came fast.

Jay: Good. That’s good. Let her rest.

Then, a text from Alyssa:

Lyssa: OMG! Is she okay?

Lyssa: Don’t even answer that, I know she’s not.

Me: She’s okay for now. She’s asleep.

Lyssa: Fuck. I’ll call her tomorrow. Take care of her, Delancy. Seriously.

Me : Ofc. I will.

Lyssa: And I know you don’t want to, but maybe you should let Marcus talk to her.

I stared at the message, jaw tightening.

Of all the names to drop.

Me: Ly…

Lyssa: I know.

Lyssa: But you know I’m right. He knew her dad. He knew their relationship. You’ve done all you can, and I’m sure you’ve done beautifully. But maybe this is one of those things where you can’t be the person who fixes it.

I swallowed hard and looked down at Carmen, curled into me, her body small and still like she was trying to disappear into my ribs. My chest ached.

I didn’t want to call Marcus. That man was too close.

But this wasn’t about me.

Me: Fine. I’ll call him in the morning.

Lyssa: Do it tonight. Before you talk yourself out of it.

She knew me too damn well.

I let out a slow, heavy breath and grabbed Carmen’s phone again. The last time I was in it, I had blocked the man I was about to talk to. The screen glared back at me as I opened the contact list and scrolled down to the name I blocked days ago.

Marcus.

I hovered over it, thumb hesitating. Carmen stirred beside me, a little sound slipping from her throat like a whimper. My decision sealed itself right then.

I hit call. It rang twice.

“Hey kiddo, you feeling any better?”

Did they speak earlier? Was he the one who broke the news to her? Not now. Not now.

“Actually, it’s Theo.”

“Theo?” His voice was clipped.

I didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“She’s not doing okay. I thought…maybe you could talk to her tomorrow or something.”

Silence.

When Marcus answered, his voice was already rough around the edges.

“Where is she?”

“ With me. She’s asleep now, but it’s not real sleep. She hasn’t eaten. Barely speaks. I tried getting her friends to talk to her. It helped for a minute, but she’ll shut down again. I know it”

“I’ll catch the first flight out.”

I blinked.

“That’s not what I—”

“I don’t give a damn what you thought,” he said sharply. Okay, so he didn’t like me either. “If she needs someone who understands her pain right now, then that’s what I’ll be. I’ll come tomorrow because that’s what she needs.”

I didn’t argue.

Because, truthfully, I couldn’t.

“All right,” I said quietly. “I’ll text you the hotel address.”

He ended the call without saying goodbye.

And I just sat there, Carmen breathing against my chest, knowing I’d just let another man fly across the world for my girl—because it might be the only thing that could help her survive the loss. Yet another man thought they could take care of Carmen better than I could.

And it pissed me the fuck off.