“June called,” Damon says.
My stomach drops. “When?”
“Yesterday. She was checking on you. Wanted to know why you hadn’t shown up for your shift.”
I close my eyes. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her you were indisposed.”
“Indisposed.” The word tastes sour. “So she knows.”
“She suspected before I called. She'd already sent you a heat kit.”
I groan and bury my face in my tea. “Right. She’s going to have questions.”
“She had questions,” Damon says. “I answered them. Vaguely.”
“What does ‘vaguely’ mean?”
“It means I told her you were experiencing an unexpected biological event and would be unavailable for the next few days. She asked if you needed anything. I told her we had it handled.”
“We.” I lift my head. “As in…?”
“All three of us. She didn’t seem surprised.”
Great. So now my boss knows I spent the last four days getting railed by three Alphas. Fantastic.
“What’s happening in town?” I ask, desperate to change the subject. “With the storm. The Rift.”
Damon leans forward, elbows on his knees. “The storm passed two days ago. Minor flooding on the east side, some downed trees, a few broken windows. My deputies handled most of it. The Rift flared again last night, but it was smaller than before. The wards held.”
“The wards held?”
“I reinforced them. Twice. They’re solid for now.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “And Dahlia? Is she okay? You mentioned that you had run into her during the storm.”
Damon and Silas exchange a look.
“Dahlia is fine,” Silas says carefully. “She’s with her family. June has been keeping an eye on her.”
“Did you…” I hesitate. “Did you talk to my mom?”
Another look between them. This time it’s Griffin who answers.
“I called her,” he says. “Day one. Told her you were staying with a friend during the storm.”
“She believed that?”
“She didn’t ask questions. She just said to tell you she loves you.”
My mom. The woman who raised me alone, who taught me my first spells, who has always supported me no matter what.She doesn’t know about the heat. She doesn’t know about any of this. And I don’t know how to tell her.
I set the tea down on the side table. My hands are shaking, and it has nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
“I need a minute,” I say.
The words come out flat. Emptier than I intend. All three of them look at me, and I can see the concern on their faces—different flavors of it, but the same basic ingredient.
