My stomach finds a new trick—like it’s being sliced down the middle. I don’t like lying. Sure, on the surface, no crime is committed. Bodan is more than willing, but it feels immoral. The reporter takes the photo just as Bodan’s arm tightens around me in a perfect photo pose. I force a smile. Not a happy one—not a real one—but it’s the default I perfected years ago.
Click. Click. Click.
I hold my breath, waiting for everyone to take their turn like I’m some zoo animal on display. All the while, Mom beams from the side. At one point, I hear her correctly spell “Bodan” for a reporter, glowing as if she’s already won the next election. “He’s a scholar who works for the Smithsonian,” she adds. After the final reporter moves on, my mom walks off, leaving me with an unsettling truth that stings far worse than it was supposed to.
This was supposed to be simple.
But I’ve never felt more guilty.
A weight feels tied to my flattened stomach, swinging there as it drags my gut lower and lower. Bodan must sense my unease, because he lowers his hand from my waist and steps aside, giving me space. “Is everything okay?”
“Ah.” I shake my head, my eyes darting from my mom to him. “I don’t know. I didn’t expect this to feel so heavy, but I guess…whatever. It’s done.” I swallow quickly, hoping to avoid further emotion. It seems like everyone has already moved on. Speeches are about to start. No one is even looking at me anymore. This is the perfect time for me to leave.
Normally, I’d stay until the end to help my mom. Tonight is different. She pushed too far. “Boy, I’m struggling to breathe in here.” I’m not being the least bit untruthful. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to step outside, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.” Bodan stays at my side as I search for the exit. Running a hand over my cheek, I flounder for theright words. “I should be fine, but thank you. It was a pleasure working with you.” I nod politely, then speed away, cringing. The bad news: he’s right on my heels. I guess it’s the gentlemanly thing to do—but I hate it.
A boundary I never knew I had was crossed tonight.
My mom and I have never been friends, but there was always a level of respect. Tonight, I was used.
My. Mom. Used. Me.
My heart cracks right down the center, shattering the place reserved to hold all the love and loyalty a girl has for her mother. Even though our relationship never felt normal, I protected it, but I know now, a line has been drawn. Forever.
sixteen
Tyson
Thevolumeonmyphone is low, but the captions scroll as I slouch in my bus seat. When Lottie’s face pops up on the bottom of the screen, the air leaves my lungs like I’ve been punched.
She’s standing in a crowd, her hair pinned back in that effortless way. She smiles like she always does when she’s trying to keep something from showing on her face. The closed caption reads: “Senator’s daughter confirms new romantic relationship with notable scholar.”
Bodan is next to her—his arm around her waist!
My gaze trails along his arm, and I grit my teeth as the mere sight of him touching her feels like an axe to my gut. The reporter leans in and asks her a question. All my blood rushesto my head, and I can’t read what she asked. Lottie nods and smiles, her gorgeous smile stretching even wider.
It’s fake.
It’s fake.
It’s all a big fat lie.
I chant to myself, but it doesn’t stop my heart from feeling like it’s being bludgeoned. I also know Lottie’s smart and not the type to get caught up in some fake-dating scheme. Right now it doesn’t matter. A wound tears open right between my ribs. It kills me to witness her next to any guy, fake or not. I hated seeing Bow Tie with her. This is maybe worse.
Around me, the guys are loud, riding the post-practice high. Someone’s laughing about how tonight was the first time I actually made it onto the ice on time. Thankfully, I didn’t get a prank ambush today. I should feel good about that. Instead, all I can see is Lottie smiling at Bodan.
Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment, but I open my texts and scroll to the one person who knows what’s going on, hoping for another point of view.
You off work?
The dots appear almost immediately.
Ham: Just wrapped up the fundraiser. About to head back to the farm. Why?
My stomach’s in knots. I’m not hungry, but I can’t think of another excuse to get him to meet me.
I reply:
