Ryke tells me, “You haven’t been going to clubs for four fucking months. I called Price, asking for the NDAs, and he doesn’t haveany.”
“Which means that you haven’t had any one-night stands,” Connor continues, “or any random hookups. Do you follow the logic, Moffy?”
I remember the lie Farrow told the security team. “You think I’m seeing one girl.”
“Price told me,” Ryke says.Price.I shake my head repeatedly. “He said you’ve been sleeping with the same girl, and you refused to get an NDA because she’s not someone your parents would fucking approve of.”
They all look to Jane.
Dammit.
“It’s not me,” Jane says stiffly.
My dad gestures to my chest. “Who else would we not approve of? I can’t think of one goddamn name other than your cousin.”
Farrow Redford Keene.
I stare off, haunted. Morality is a demanding beast that asks me, pleads with me,begs meto do the right thing. What’s right anymore? I’m searching for the sword that I need to fall on. I just don’t want to hurt Jane or Farrow in the process.
I can’t hurt him.
I can’t.
Just let it slice through me.
“Maybe it’s not a love affair,” Ryke says. “Are you drinking? Are you having any fucking problems?”
“No,” I say firmly.
“Are you?” Ryke turns on Jane.
“No,” she says adamantly.
“We just want to help,” my mom chimes in, wet tears streaking her cheeks. “If you both would be honest, we can all work this out.” They think we’re lying.
And I am lying.
The truth is standing just outside the door. And I remember what Farrow once said.“You just need to know that I’m going to get banged up and you can’t run and save me, wolf scout. You have to let it happen.”I’m not supposed to protect him. As much as it’s killing me. As much as it’s driving knots in my damn stomach.
We’re supposed to stand side-by-side. And we need to take this hit together.
Go get the truth.
I turn my head.
“Do you sleep in the same bed together?” my dad asks, voice stilted.
I go rigid. The room grows hot.
My head swerves back to him. I’m not burying myself beneath another lie. “Sometimes,” I say. “It’s always platonic.”
My mom sits on the very edge of the trunk. “But you sleep in the same bed,” she says as though she needs extra confirmation. Like she didn’t hear right.
“Yeah.”
My mom touches her chest with two hands. “Your dad and I—we used to sleep in the same bed when we were just friends.”
Oh shit.
