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“Angela’s quite the chef herself,” Dad says, pouring two cups of coffee.
“Really?” I lean against the counter, intrigued despite myself. “Maybe she can give me some competition.”
“Maybe,” he agrees, smiling over the rim of his cup.
I set the plates down, and we sit across from each other at the kitchen table, just as we have countless times before. But there’s a new layer to our bond now, woven through with understanding and acceptance.
“Thanks, Brielle,” Dad says, his eyes meeting mine. “For everything.”
“Always, Dad.” My heart swells with a mix of love and nostalgia. “Always.”
44
BRIELLE
I stride toward the school, the morning air crisp against my skin. Sierra is hunched over her phone, thumbs flying. I wave, a tentative smile on my lips. She doesn’t look up until I’m close enough to catch the scent of her vanilla perfume. Her eyes meet mine, cold and dismissive, then she rolls them hard and turns away. It’s a wordless rejection that slices through me.
“Sierra?” My voice comes out softer than I intend, a thread of confusion weaving through it.
But she’s already pacing away, her silence a heavy blanket thrown over my head. I stand there, the sting of her dismissal fresh on my cheeks. Hurt burrows into my chest, a familiar ache that I can’t shake off as easily as I’d like to.
The bell sounds, a reminder that time waits for no one, especially not for high school drama. So, I push the hurt aside, lock it up for later. Class is calling.
One foot in front of the other, I make my way inside, the buzz of fluorescent lights overhead mingling with the murmur of students settling in. The classroom beckons me forward, a sanctuary or a battlefield—I can never decide which.
I slide into my seat, books clutched tight to my chest. It’s then that I feel it—a gaze like a touch. Levi. His eyes snag mine for a fleeting second. A blush detonates across my face, fiery and fast. Memories flicker—his lips, his laugh, the heat of whispered promises shared under the cover of darkness. Heat coils low in my belly, distracting, demanding.
I try to focus on the class, but the words blur together, nonsensical sounds lost beneath the drumming of my heart. Levi’s presence is a magnet, his mere proximity tugging at me with an invisible force. The lecture drags on, but I’m adrift in a sea of what-ifs, anchored only by stolen glances and the soft scratch of my pen pretending to take notes.
And all the while, I fight to keep myself from drowning in thoughts of him, of us, of moments too precious to let slip through the cracks of a distracted mind.
My pen is running out of ink, so I slide my hand into the depths of my backpack, searching for a new one. Instead, my fingers brush against a foreign piece of paper. Not the silky caress of my well-worn notebook pages, but something more crisp, invasive.
I pull it out.
Watch your step, Brielle, the scrawled handwriting warns. Secrets like yours burn bright…and fast.
My heart hammers. Blood rushes in my ears. My eyes dart around the room—searching, accusing. Could it be Conrad’s stern gaze that harbors this threat? Levi’s charming smirk? Or Grayson’s silent scrutiny?
No one looks back. No one looks guilty.
I shove the letter back into my bag as if it’s on fire. The words sear into my memory, branding me with fear. What if they find out? What if everyone knows?
“Ms. Rose, is there a problem?” Levi’s voice slices through my panic.
“Uh—no, sorry.” But the words come out weak, unconvincing.
* * *
The bell rings, shattering the silence of concentration. I shove my notebook into my bag and rise, muscles tense from sitting too long. I’m determined to put the threatening note out of my mind, for now.
Levi is at my desk before I can step away, his presence like a sudden storm cloud.
“Stay for a second?” he asks, voice low, eyes insistent.
“Planning to give me a pop quiz on the way out?” I tease, hoping to lighten the mood. My words hang, awkward and out of place in the emptying room.
“No jokes. Just come with me.” His tone brooks no argument, but his lips twitch with something unreadable.
