I don’t, but I can go to the store.
Valeria 8:33 p.m.:
When you get some, sprinkle 1/8 teaspoon over her wet food. Mix it in. She shouldn’t be able to tell it’s in there since it’s flavorless.
Camila 8:33 p.m.:
Wow, okay. I’ll get some now. Thank you!
Valeria smiles to herself. She loves this. Loves knowing there are things she can do to help.
“Now,” Brooke says, squinting at her, “what could her cat possibly be going through that would ever have you smiling likethat?”
“Nothing. I enjoy being helpful, Brooke.”
Brooke snorts. “I don’t believe you.”
A small pulse jumps in Valeria’s throat. “What? You want to go through my phone?”
“Yes, actually.” Brooke extends her hand, palm up. “I do.”
Valeria laughs, sharp and thin. “You’re not serious. We promised we’d never do that.”
“Well, you’re offering.” Brooke shrugs. “So hand it over.”
“I was being sarcastic.” A knot of unease forms in Valeria’s stomach.
Brooke’s eyes narrow, her jaw tightens, and a wink of annoyance crosses her eyes. “Well, now it looks like you’re hiding something.”
“What?” Valeria huffs, brows lifting in disbelief.
Brooke stands. The floor creaks as she steps closer. Valeria’s fingers curl around the edge of the cushion, nails biting into fabric, her body already on edge as Brooke stands close enough that she can feel the heat of her skin.
“Give me your phone,” she says, her voice low as she hovers over Valeria. “Don’t make me take it off your hands.”
Valeria swallows, but she struggles; her mouth’s gone dry, her tongue thick, and her heart slams so hard against her ribs it hurts.
Brooke makes a grab for the phone, but somehow, Valeria slips it into her pocket beforehand.
“Don’t you dare,” she says, but her voice betrays her, breathy, shaking at the edges. It’s not that there’s anything on her phone she’s afraid of Brooke seeing. It’s that this is an invasion of privacy, a line they promised each other they would never cross, no matter what.
“Wow.” Brooke leans in, bracing a hand on the back of the couch, boxing her in. “There must besomethingin there you don’t want me to see.” She narrows her eyes.
“Brooke, there’s nothing,” Valeria says, desperate.
For a long second, Brooke watches her, eyes sharp, measuring, like she’s deciding how much force taking Valeria’s phone is going to take. Panic crawls up Valeria’s spine, hot and dizzy, her thoughts tripping over each other. Her lungs forget their rhythm, and her chest feels locked, and the panic she felt at the cabin all those months ago is back.
“You’re shaking,” Brooke says quietly.
She hadn’t realized it until Brooke pointed it out. All at once, the restless energy in her body screams, alongside the urge to walk until it calms down. Valeria tries to stand, but Brooke shifts instantly, knee knocking into Valeria’s, not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to stop her. The jolt shoots straight up Valeria’s nerves.
“Sit,” Brooke says, the word a command rather than a request.
Something inside Valeria fractures. Heat floods her face, her vision tunneling. She hates that her body is obeying, that fear is taking over.
“Don’t do this,” Valeria says. “Please.” The word tastes wrong. Weak. Brooke’s eyes find hers again, something like satisfaction passing through before it’s gone. A look Valeriahadn’t seen in months. She hates how much Brooke seems to enjoy seeing her small.
Brooke reaches out and grips Valeria’s chin, fingers tight, forcing their eyes to meet. “Then stop lying to me.”
