“What happened between you and my mom? How long have you been together? Since I was little?”
“No! Not long at all.”
“And I still live here?” she asks, no doubt shocked by the realization her mom doesn’t live here but Milly and she are. “Did she not want Milly and me to live with her?”
“We can talk about that when you’re well again.” I don’t want to thrust too much knowledge on her at the moment.
“Who is Caleb?” she asks suddenly.
My entire body tenses. Hearing his name on her lips feels like a knife between my ribs, but I keep my face neutral. I try to look unaffected but inside rage bubbles up like hot oil. Of all the things for her to remember, it had to be him.
“Who is Caleb?” she repeats when I don’t answer.
I watch her studying my face, her eyes tracing my features like she’s trying to piece together a memory. She’s always been observant, my piccola. Too observant for her own good.
“He was my best friend,” I say finally, my voice flat. I deliberately use past tense. After what happened at the club, after seeing him there, after learning what he’s been doing with Amara—friendship is the last thing on my mind.
Amara shifts uncomfortably in her chair, wincing slightly. The movement pulls her thin t-shirt across her chest, and I force my eyes away. Then stand abruptly, needing distance.
“It’s getting hot,” I mutter, pulling my shirt over my head.
I feel her eyes on me as I toss the shirt onto a nearby chair. When I turn back, she’s staring at my chest, my arms, with a mixture of confusion and something else—something that makes my blood run hotter.
“You look at me like that often,” I tell her, unable to stop myself.
She blushes, her cheeks turning a delicate pink. “I do?”
“Yes.” I sit back down, leaning toward her. “You were asking about Caleb. Why?”
I watch Amara’s face as she processes what I’ve told her about Caleb. Something flickers in her eyes—recognition, perhaps? Fear? I can’t tell, and it drives me crazy not knowing what’s going on in that beautiful head of hers.
“He visited me,” she blurts.
My body goes rigid. “Where? Here? In my home?”
She nods her head. “Milly asked him to visit so I wouldn’t wake up alone. She had something to do.”
My jaw clenches so hard I hear my teeth grind. Milly. Of course. That girl doesn't know what she’s done, inviting a snake into Amara’s room when she was vulnerable. When I get my hands on—
“What did he say to you?” I keep my voice controlled, though inside I’m seething.
“Nothing much.” She looks down at her hands. “But he called me bunny. Do you know why?”
The nickname hits me like a bullet. Bunny. Sweet Bunny. Her name on that fucking website.
He knows. He’s known all along.
I try to brush it off, shrugging my shoulders. “No idea.”
But Amara isn’t satisfied. She presses further, those blue eyes of hers drilling into me. “Are you sure? You looked like you recognized it.”
“Why do you ask? Do you remember him?” I press, feeling like I’m stepping onto thin ice.
“No, but I did hear his name in the hospital when I first woke up.”
My eyes narrow. “He betrayed me.”
I observe her reaction. She shivers slightly, and I wonder if she can hear the promise of violence in my voice. Good. She should know I’m dangerous. Maybe then she’ll stay away from him.
