“Lo?”
I shake my head too fast. “It’s nothing. Just… spam. Political spam.”
Hayes leans up on his elbows, brow furrowed. “You’re pale. That doesn’t look like spam.”
Beck is already reaching for my phone, and I jerk it away because it’s burning me.
“I said it’s nothing,” I snap.
Beck’s gaze sharpens, heavy as a stone.
“Lo.” Just my name, flat, steady.
A warning from my Alpha.
My throat locks up. My instincts lock up. I want to lie. God, how I want to lie and shove this down like I always do. I ruin everything. Everything good that happens in my life, I always find a way to shatter. I want to pretend the buzzing in my veinsis just leftover heat and not the acid-drip fear that Dylan’s words stir up.
But then Hayes sits forward, dimples gone.
“Is it your parents?”
The air whooshes out of me. It’s not, but the second he says it, my stomach twists. Because that’s a whole different landmine, waiting for me beyond this little bubble of ours.
I laugh. Or something close enough. Sharp, cracked. “Wow. Gold star.”
Ford’s fingers tighten on mine, not letting me pull away this time. “What happened? We never got a chance to find out.”
I want to say nothing. I want to joke, to dodge like I always do. But the words get stuck in my teeth, splintering until they taste of blood.
“It was horrible,” I blurt out. “They basically told me I need to get out of this town.”
Silence spreads over the blanket like spilled ink.
Hayes curses low, vicious, and not for show. Beck’s jaw flexes, stone and fire. Ford doesn’t say anything, just shifts closer until his shoulder presses against mine.
“They looked at me like I was…” I swallow hard, throat burning. “Like I was a stranger. Worse, really. Like I was a mistake they regretted making.”
My phone buzzes again, still face up on the blanket. Dylan’s words glowing sharp and ugly in the dark:about to get what’s coming to you.
I swipe it facedown before they can read more. But it’s too late. They’ve seen enough.
Beck shakes his head. “That wasn’t your parents.”
I flinch. Too slow. Too obvious.
Hayes leans in, eyes searching mine. “Lo… who is it?”
And I know this is the moment. This has all come to a head—holding everything in until it rots me, or finally letting them carry some of the weight with me.
My chest feels like it might crack open if I keep it inside any longer.
“It’s Dylan,” I whisper.
The name hangs there, heavy and foul.
And just like that, the date, my perfect little stolen slice of safety, shatters on impact.
CHAPTER 34
