“Thank you. I don’t know why it took us so long to do that,” she murmurs, teasing.
I tilt my head, grin slow and dark. “That’s what happens when you’re too busy fucking to talk. Nothing else matters.”
She laughs. God, that sound.
It cuts through the chaos in my head like a goddamn balm. But I keep it together.
Barely.
“We’ll talk soon. But text me for anything, and I do meananything.” There’s an edge in my tone, one that says if she so much asthinksof danger or doubt, she better reach for me first.
“I will,” she promises, then raises a brow. “But don’t you want to save my number in your phone?”
It’s the way she says it, subtle, flirty, sweet. A girl who knows exactly how dangerous it is to be soft with me. And does it anyway.
“That’s why I said text me,” I say, brushing my thumb along her lower lip. “I’ll know it’s you.”
I kiss her once, slow and possessive. A reminder. A claim.
Then I rise to my feet and head back toward the truck. Right before I climb in, I glance over my shoulder and toss it out, low and casual:
“My password’s your name, too.”
The grin that splits her face is wicked and wide. And her storm-gray eyes glow like the moon just lit them up for me.
I slide behind the wheel, shut the door, and grip the steering wheel like it’s her fucking throat, because if I don’t touch her again soon, I might lose what little control I have left.
Chapter Three
Athens
Lying in bed feels like the only thing I can still do without falling apart.
The weight of everything presses down on me, crushing bone, soul, breath,and there’s no way out of it.
My world isn’t unraveling.
It’s burning. Collapsing in slow motion while I just lie here, staring at the ceiling like it owes me answers.
Finding out my entire life was a lie has cracked something deep inside me. Something that used to feel permanent. Untouchable.
Now, it’s rotting.
Josie. My aunt. My protector. Mymother.
The truth slithers through my ribs like a sickness, coiled tight, poisoning everything.
How could she lie to me like that?
The question loops in my head like a broken record. Over and over until it means nothing. Until it means everything.
I haven’t gotten out of bed in days. Time has no shape anymore. The sun rises, the sun sets, and none of it feelsreal.
I canceled all my classes this week. It was the smartest thing I’ve done.
There was no way I’d be able to stand in front of students, pretending to care about lesson plans while the foundations of my entire identity have been ripped out from under me.
The only thing I can manage is lying here, tucked under covers that don't feel warm, in a room that doesn’t feel safe, inside a skin that doesn’t feel like mine anymore.
