Mind Code (Coded Connections Duet #2)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Amelia

My blouse lies on the floor next to the stilettos I just kicked off, leaving me in only my skirt and bra. I brush my hair behind my shoulders and start to fan my chest, taking deep breaths and trying to fight back the tears that threaten to spill over.

I’m raw.

Being in this house, having them here, I’m so fucking raw, and burning myself now seems like the cherry on top.

I can’t do this anymore.

My reflection in the vanity mirror shows angry red patches on my pale skin where the hot tea scalded me.

Just perfect.

And just because of Daniel. He’s such an idiot.

Vacation home. Christmas with kids.

My hands tremble as I run them over the tender areas, wincing at the contact.

My smartwatch vibrates violently on my wrist, jolting me from my spiral. An alert blinks on the screen—someone has crossed the sensor in the hallway. But before I can even react, the door springs open without anyone knocking, and Grey, Misha, and Oliver barge their way inside.

“Princess, are you—” Grey’s eyes widen as he takes in my state of undress. “Shit.”

“Get out,” I command, but it’s weak.

I cross my arms over my chest as Grey steps up to me. He pulls them back down, seemingly unflustered by my half-nakedness, zeroing in on the redness on my skin.

“Oliver, get me a cold washcloth, please,” he demands while he hovers his fingers over the red on my cleavage. His gaze wanders to the almost-faded hickey he left on my collarbone, letting his thumb slide over it, making me shudder and my skin rise with gooseflesh as he whispers, “How bad does it hurt?”

The burn, or the memory of your mouth on me?

Oliver is back on my other side with the washcloth, patting it against my skin. The cold is so soothing that I close my eyes on a soft whimper.

He presses it down a little firmer and keeps it there. “Better?”

I nod, eyes still closed, and the relief from the burn makes a tear run down my cheek.

God, I’m such a baby.

It’s not even that bad.

But it hurts.

Everything hurts.

I feel soft pressure as the tear is brushed away, and when I open my eyes, Grey’s face so close, his breath a whisper on my lips.

“Come on, sit down,” he murmurs.

Oliver steps over and guides me to the bed, his hand firm but gentle on my arm. I take the washcloth from him and hold it against my chest. Sitting down, a chill runs over my back, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of how little I’m wearing, feeling exposed in more ways than one.

Misha notices me shuddering and raises his hands to the front of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, keeping his eyes on me the entire time. His bare chest is now on display, dark chest hair contrasting with his tanned skin.

Looking so damn good.

I rub circles between my fingertips almost subconsciously, remembering how it felt to let my fingers glide through the softness. He wraps his shirt around my shoulders, enveloping me in his leafy rain scent, the fabric comforting, still warm from his body heat.

“Here, this will help,” he murmurs in a low rumble as he gently pulls my hair out from under the shirt. He adjusts it around me, making sure I’m covered before he meets my gaze, and for a moment, everything that happened fades away, and it really hits me.

They’re here.

In London.

Grey squats down in front of me and brings a hand to my cheek, his thumb brushing away another tear I didn’t notice slipping out. “We’ve got you, Amelia,” he whispers.

You’ve got me?

You’ve got me?

“Did you take it?” I whisper, the accusation thick in my throat.

Misha squats down next to Grey, confusion evident on his face. “Take what, Bug?”

“My AR project. My work. Did you steal it?”

I need to know.

Oliver sits next to me on the bed, his green eyes filled with hurt. “We would never do that to you. We came here to apologize, to explain—”

“Explain what?” I cut him off, my voice way softer than it should be. “How you violated my trust? How you watched me without my consent? How you turned my life into some sort of twisted reality show?”

I can’t look at him anymore.

Grey brings his hands to the outside of my thighs, rubbing beneath the hem of my skirt, his hands hot on my naked skin. “We fucked up badly. We know that. We never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did,” I whisper, averting my gaze.

You said you loved me.

Misha moves closer, reaching out to nudge my chin up and make me look at him. “We’re so sorry. We got caught up in something we shouldn’t have, but it came from a place of caring about you.”

I huff. “Caring? Is that what you call it? Spying on me to get more data for your project? Stalking me?”

“This wasn’t about the AI,” Oliver says, and I turn to scowl at him. “It wasn’t! You were never a project to me. We were worried about you. You were always so alone, and we just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he explains, stroking circles on my back.

Now, all of them are somehow touching me, and some of the anxiety I’ve felt for days eases, while at the same time, the hurt intensifies.

How are they the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me?

More tears start spilling over. “You had no right to watch me like that. I trusted you, all of you.”

“But did you?” Grey challenges, his voice steady but filled with something . “At the start, you wouldn’t share shit with us, and it was like pulling teeth to even get you to eat lunch at our table. We needed to earn your trust, and yes, we cheated. But would you have let us in otherwise?”

I bite my lip, the truth of his words hitting me hard .

He’s probably right.

I was closed off, guarded.

Grey reaches out to pull my lip out from between my teeth with his thumb. “I’m sorry that we didn’t tell you, and you had to find out on your own. But I’m not sorry that we watched you. It wasn’t planned. Jamie barged his way into your system and we got a glimpse into your life. A glimpse of the smart, beautiful, sassy, but so damn lonely woman who we all couldn’t stop watching while we were falling for her. Hard. Watching you was wrong, yes, but I needed to know everything about you. My girl. Our girl. How you tick, what you like, if you’re safe. ”

Their girl.

“You could have asked,” I murmur, the tears still flowing.

“And what would you have said?” Misha interjects. “Would you have let us in, or would you have pushed us away? You were alone, Amelia. So fucking alone. And we couldn’t stand by and watch you struggle when we had a chance to be there for you, even if it was from a distance at first.”

I glance between them, and the truth of their words stings, but it also makes me see things from their perspective. They did what they thought was necessary to break through my walls, to reach me when I wouldn’t let anyone else in.

But still…

“Okay. But that didn’t give you the right,” I insist, though my voice lacks the conviction it had moments ago.

“No, it didn’t,” Oliver agrees, scooting closer. “But we did it because we care about you. So much. And maybe we went about it the wrong way, but our intentions were never to hurt you.”

Grey cups the back of my knees. “We know we fucked up, Amelia. But we can’t change what we did. All we can do is try to make it right and hope you can forgive us.”

The anger and betrayal still burn within me, but beneath that, I can feel the stirrings of something else—understanding maybe.

“Give us a chance to prove that we’re worthy of your trust,” Misha adds.

Part of me wants to cling to my anger, to the feeling of betrayal, but another part of me knows they’re right. And somehow, it feels good. Good to know they cared enough to watch me.

For weeks.

God, this is so bloody confusing.

“We never watched you sleep or shower, I promise. But I binge-watched Twilight with you once.” Misha grins, trying to reassure me with humor while he’s holding my calf.

“So, you didn’t watch when Jamie made me come?”

Did I really just ask that out loud?

“Jamie did what ?” Grey asks, visibly shocked as he leans away from me. “What the hell?”

Oh.

Fuck, this is embarrassing.

“That… that wasn’t Jamie. It was me,” Oliver chimes in meekly.

Oh my God.

My head turns to him so quickly that I almost get whiplash. The voice that had comforted me, made me feel wanted and needed— it was Oliver.

“You said you needed me. I needed you, too,” he whispers. “I wanted to be there for you.”

“Y-you absolute plonker,” I stutter, the hurt evident in every syllable.

How could he ?

How could any of them?

Misha shoots Grey a look, muttering under his breath, “Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Amelia, I’m sorry . I shouldn’t have, but…” Oliver seems at a loss for words, his ears glowing red.

The room feels like it’s closing in on me. The walls are too close, the air too thick.

I can’t breathe.

“This is all too much,” I manage, my hands trembling as I stand and step over Misha and Grey, taking a few steps away from them, my hands shaking as I clutch at the fabric of Misha’s shirt, which is still wrapped around me.

Grey stands and is behind me with two steps. He turns me and pulls me into a hug. “Hey, shh… it’s okay. I’m sorry we’re the ones that hurt you, but we’ll make it up by being the ones who are there for you now.”

“There for me after you hurt me? Do you hear yourself, Grey?” I mutter against his chest, somehow unable to push him away after taking a deep breath.

Coffee , buttery rum, and old music sheets.

“Did you steal my work?” I ask again.

They didn’t give me a clear no.

“ No , Amelia, I swear on everything. I swear on Grandpa . We did not steal your work. We watched you from day one with Jamie. We never overstepped any real boundaries…” I lean back to give him an incredulous look, “… okay, we mostly didn’t, but we never took from you.” He pushes a strand of hair that fell into my eyes behind my ear. “We’re very sorry, Amelia. We love you.”

Love.

Strange way to show that.

“Do you believe us that we didn’t steal from you?” Oliver asks, his head tilted, eyes pleading .

I think about it for a moment, searching their faces for any sign of deceit. Finally, I nod. At least they didn’t do that .

“We’re gonna find who did,” Grey promises.

How?

“Leave, please,” I whisper, hugging myself, mindful of my burn.

“Princess…” Grey closes the gap between us with a step forward, his hand reaching out as if to pull me into another hug, but I flinch away, not wanting his touch, not wanting any of them near me right now.

“Just leave me alone,” I say, defeated. “I’m tired. I need a nap or something. I need you gone.”

Oliver looks like he wants to say more, but Misha places a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. “We’ll go. Give you the space you need.”

“Fine,” Grey relents, his shoulders sagging. “But we’re not going anywhere. Our rooms are the ones three doors down the hallway if you need us.”

What I need is to turn back time.

“I won’t.”

They exchange glances, a mixture of guilt and helplessness in their eyes, before slowly making their way to the door. It closes behind them with a soft click, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the echo of their promises…

…and the sound of my phone vibrating on my vanity.

Picking it up, I stare at the text from Willow in disbelief.

I can’t watch the fish anymore. I left your key in an envelope in front of your door. Bye.

What?

No, this can’t be happening. I try to call her, but it goes straight to voicemail. Frustrated, I type out a message.

Why? You can’t leave the key like that. I’m in London, Willow! Please call me back.

I wait, anxiously watching the screen for those three dots to appear, indicating she’s typing a response. But nothing comes. Just silence. My pulse quickens. The guys are here too. The only one who’s left in Seattle who could make sure that I didn’t steal those fish just to let them starve is… Morgan.

I hate that I have to call her after how I left things, but those tiny lives are more important than my pride right now.

Taking a deep breath, I hit the call button, and she picks up almost immediately.

“Amelia? Are you okay?” Morgan’s voice is filled with concern, and I feel a pang of guilt for worrying her.

“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry for leaving it like that last time.”

“Don’t worry about it. I heard the guys found you. Is everything okay? They only called to ask Grandpa about your father, but then went radio silent again. We’re worried over here.”

I sigh, running my hand over my face. “I’m sorry. And yeah, that was such a random connection. I still can’t quite wrap my head around it.”

“Is it, though?” Morgan asks, her voice thoughtful. “Grandpa was a law professor at Harvard for almost twenty years. I’d guess he has a lot of former students walking around. The world’s smaller than we think sometimes.”

“True,” I concede, biting my lip. “Anyway, I have to ask you for a favor. And I’m so sorry about it.”

“Anything,” Morgan says without hesitation, and I could kiss her for it.

“I need you to feed my fish, please. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. My fish sitter just quit and left the key in front of my apartment door. I can’t believe she did that, but I suppose that’s what I get for hiring a preteen.”

“Your fish sitter ?” Morgan laughs. “Oh well, I guess that makes me one, too, now. Of course, no problem. I’ll take care of your fish.”

“Thank you so much,” I say, relief washing over me. “I’m going to text you everything you need to know in a minute. I promise it’s not too complicated.”

I’m about to hang up when Morgan’s voice stops me. “Amelia,” she says, shifting to something more serious.

“Yes?”

“How are they holding up? Are they fucking up even more?”

I pause, mulling over her question.

Are they?

I thought so at first, but after the conversation we just had, maybe it wasn’t all as bad as I’d initially believed.

Although it was still pretty bad.

“They haven’t yet.”

“Oh?” Morgan sounds surprised. “So they’re making things right?”

I sigh, twisting a strand of hair around my finger. “They’re trying.”

There’s a moment of silence before Morgan asks, “And will you let them try?”

“I’ll try,” I admit. It’s all I can give her and them right now.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Morgan says, her voice softening. “Thank you.”

Don’t thank me too soon.

I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.

Least of all mine.