PRESENT DAY
KATE
Acid coats my tongue. My lungs squeeze, pulsing fast and fighting for air. Why would Brandon sign off a text like that? He wouldn’t joke about H.Y. knowing how terrified I’ve been this whole time. How desperately I’ve clung to Brandon because of it.
Sandpaper coats my throat, and I try to swallow.
There’s no way. This is ridiculous.
Brandon is not H.Y. He couldn’t be.
My mind bumbles through memory after memory, trying to scrap together evidence to exonerate him, but I cannot. The timing of each text leaves a lot of gray area for assumption. I search for a moment where H.Y. texted me while Brandon was present, like what happened with Levi.
There are none.
Disbelief fades as hot tears of anger burn behind my eyeballs.
There’s no logical excuse for him to sign off a text like that.
Unless…
Was H.Y. a ploy all along for Brandon to draw closer to me? A plan that would render me helpless and seeking protection?
I’m suddenly back in college, realizing that Brandon’s romantic date setup was just that—a setup. Here I am again, feeling stupidand manipulated into a playboy’s master plan while he pulls the strings.
WhileBrandonpulls the strings.
Did he decide now was safe enough to out himself? That I was madly in love with him enough to forgive behind rose-colored glasses?
I clench my jaw until it aches.
I attempt to stall my angry thoughts, taking a deep breath until I can sort through them rationally. I begin with what I know.
I love Brandon.
Brandon loves me.
Surely Brandon wouldn’t have messed with me all this time. There’s no way. Unless he had other motives? He never would hurt me on purpose, that much I know. So was this some sort of bad joke? Something isn’t adding up.
As angry as I am, I need to find Brandon. I need to give him a chance to explain before I jump to conclusions.
I stalk through the Astor Wing, abandoning my heels and purse on the couch. But even through the waning crowds, I cannot find him anywhere.
I spot Amantha beneath a blinking traffic light talking to Blythe and Robyn, and I work my way to them.
“Have you guys seen Brandon?”
Amantha’s brows pinch. “I thought I saw him a few minutes ago, but I didn’t see where he went. Why? Are you okay?”
But I stride off before I can answer. The anger barely cloaking my hurt is chomping at the bit for answers. Maybe he already headed down to the basement storage rooms to retrieve the industrial carts for takedown?
I break into a run toward the service elevator, relieved that I won’t need my keycard to access it since I accidentally left it tucked in my purse. Security waived the employee only access lock for the public. My fuchsia train skirts closely behind me, a bit longer now since I’m without my heels.
I stab the button, tapping my bare toes on the cold tile. Whirling into the elevator, I smack the button for the basement level with an open palm. The doors seem to lag, waiting for others to step in. I press the pad of my thumb against the door-close button. No one else is coming.
Movement shifts in my periphery, and I startle. Realizing I’m not alone in this elevator, I toss a casual glance over my shoulder. The mirrored elevator doors slide shut with a pneumatic hiss before the person chooses to speak.
“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight? Pink has always been my favorite color on you, Kate.”
