But thankfully, a beat ofnothingpasses, and I open my eyes, finding her striding toward the door. “Two days. Finish it.”
She storms out, slamming the door behind her, not bothering if anyone hears. Which seems awfully counterproductive if she plans on keeping me as her secret.
A knock sounds on the door, and I jump, not realizing my hand was massaging the ache of my jaw.
I tiptoe over to the door and pull it open without a word, letting her get her final jab in before she goes.
“Ciri?” Jules’s kind voice caresses me.
Shit, she can’t find out.
“What’s up?” I try to keep my tone even, but I know that I fail desperately. Besides, the tears on my cheeks and the assumed redness of my neck are dead giveaways.
I slowly glance up, finding Jules and Myra Ravi–her mom and our boss–standing in the doorway.
Jules’s brown eyes study me, as if she knows something she shouldn’t. “We overheard …”
My stomach drops. “Overheard w-what?”
Twiddling her thumbs, she winces. “Kind ofeverything.” She swallows hard, a question on the tip of her tongue. “Is Ms. Chamberlain your mom?”
Crap.
I have two choices here. I can tell her she is confused and doesn’t understand what she heard. Or I can tell my only friend the truth.
I shouldn’t.
It’s selfish and wrong.
I made a deal, and I ought to keep that.
But I push my door open anyway … letting Jules and Myra wander inside to officially meet the real me for the first time.
And I tell them everything, more than I should, but once I start, I can’t stop. It pours out of me, and by the time I finish, I’m a heaping pile of tears and vulnerability.
I expect them to tell me to get over it, that this is what I deserve. That I’m weak for crying and for needing comfort.
But they don’t. Instead, they hold me while I come undone, every button that’s held me together bursting at the seams.
When the vulnerability turns to stomach-churning anxiety, they don’t shove me away or take advantage. They hug me tighter.
Myra cups my face, wiping away my tears. “You deserve to live out of the shadows, Ciri.”
Her words echo in my mind.
I deserve to live out of the shadows.
“Are you ever on time?” Griffin Hawthorne—defenseman for the HEAU Legends men’s hockey team—greets me with a chuckle, drops of sweat peppering his forehead.
I flip him off, smirking. “I’m here before practice has even started. Doesn’t sound like I’m late at all.”
“Mmhmm. Dean was here thirty minutes ago.”
Rolling my eyes, I groan, “Good for him. Not all of us are asperfectly punctualas the prince himself.”
“I heard that,” Dean calls out behind me, strolling into the locker room, geared up and sweaty after his warm-up. “I tried to get you to leave with me.”
Trying to seem as if I’m not panic dressing, I take a quiet, deep breath. “Fuck off. I had shit to do this morning.” Shit thatI’d rather not admit to anyone in this room at the moment, like sleeping through every single alarm. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
