“C’mon, Damon,” she begs playfully. “He’ll never know.”
Her hand brushes lightly against mine, the accidental contact shooting through me harder than it should. It’s brief, but it’s enough. I glance down at her as she looks up at me, both of us catching the moment at the exact same time.
And for one reckless second, I forget this is a job.
I sit curled sideways on one of the kitchen island stools, my bare feet hooked around the lower rung, phone pressed tightly against my ear while I stare at a tiny imperfection in the marble countertop. There’s a chip near the edge shaped vaguely like Florida, if you squint hard enough. I’ve been staring at it for the last three minutes because focusing on that feels easier than trying to figure out why Gabe finally called me back after over nearly a month of silence.
A month.
Twenty-six days of unanswered texts. Ignored voicemails. Messages left on read while I sat confined inside this embassy compound, wondering whether my boyfriend was worried about me or simply relieved I was gone. And now that he’s finally on the phone, the conversation already feels stiff and uncomfortable. Like we’re standing on opposite sides of a hallway, pretending not to notice how far apart we’ve become.
Security lights glow brightly beyond the embassy windows while the massive kitchen sits mostly dark around me, lit only by the warm pendant lights hanging over the island. Somewhere deeper in the residence, voices murmur faintly before fading again. Security rotates shifts outside, and radios crackle quietly through the hallways. The entire house feels alive with movement while somehow feeling painfully empty at the same time.
I tighten my grip on the phone. “So…” I clear my throat awkwardly, needing to just get this over with. “What’s going on, Gabe? You haven’t talked to me since I left.”
Silence crackles briefly through the speaker before he finally exhales. “What’s going on? You tell me.”
My stomach tightens instantly. “What does that mean?”
“I’ve heard things, Kenz.”
A cold feeling creeps slowly down my spine. “Whatthings?”
“That you disappeared from campus with two heavily tattooed guys.” His voice hardens slightly. “That you dropped out of school. There are all kinds of rumors going around about why you left.”
I blink slowly at the marble countertop beneath my hands.Of coursethere are rumors. Westbridge practically survives on gossip and scandal. Half the students there would combust if they went more than twenty-four hours without inventing a dramatic story about somebody else’s life.
“What kind of rumors?” I ask quietly.
He hesitates long enough to make my chest hurt. “Thatyou’re… I don’t know. Hooking up with them, or something.”
For one full second, I genuinely think I’ve misheard him. Then disbelief crashes into me so hard I almost laugh. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t know what to believe.”
It shouldn’t be humorous, but after being dragged home by armed security, readjusting my life due to a cartel threat, and the dozens of unread messages I left, explaining that my life had basically detonated overnight,thisis the conclusion he came to.
I bark out a sharp laugh. “Oh my God.”
“Mackenzi—”
“No, seriously.” I sit upright so quickly the stool screeches against the floor. “Yes, Gabe. It’s true. I wouldn’t fuck you, but I apparently dropped out of college to become the center of a tattooed-men harem. And there’s four of them. Not two.”
There is nothing but silence on the other end, but I’m too angry to stop.
“Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?” I snap. “Had you taken literally thirty seconds to listen to a single voicemail or read one of my texts, you’d know exactly why I left campus, and that I’ve been trying to talk to you since I left for the airport.”
He exhales sharply through the phone. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy,” I repeat flatly. “For amonth?”
“I got into Beta Zeta Psi.”
I blink once, this timecertainI misheard him.
“That’s it?” I ask incredulously. “You got into a frat, heard a few stupid rumors about me, and suddenly had no time for your girlfriend?”
“It’s not just that.”
