Page 215 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“You,” she says.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

June

I think I must be wrong.

Not because I don’t recognize her, but because the coincidence is so ugly it almost feels impossible. The woman standing halfway down the hall in a cleaner’s polo with a cart full of spray bottles and paper towels is someone I never really noticed when I worked here. Maybe she wasn’t on this wing then. Maybe I was too busy. Maybe I just had no reason to look twice at a face that only mattered once I found it bent over my ruined life.

But it’s her.

The blonde hair is a little darker at the roots now, pulled back tighter, not as soft as it looked falling over Max’s shoulder that day. The makeup is lighter, the expression harder. But it’s her allright. I’d know those eyes anywhere.

I can still see them widening when she looked up from my bed.

Still hear the little, breathy oh wow that came out of her, like my life collapsing under my feet was some kind of inconvenience.

My stomach drops so fast I almost feel it in my knees.

The woman grips the handle of the cart so tightly her knuckles go white.

Mrs. Kline turns, confused at first. “Tiffany?”

Tiffany.

So that’s her name.

I take a step forward without meaning to. Wayne shifts with me immediately, close enough to stop me if I do something stupid, but he doesn’t block me. Fletcher appears at my side. Rex angles out just slightly, creating space and pressure all at once, and for the first time since I set foot in this building, I don’t feel like the most vulnerable person in the room.

Still, my whole body is shaking.

“You work here?” I ask, and my tone sounds strange to my own ears, thin with disbelief and sharp around the edges.

Tiffany’s chin lifts as she lowers her phone. “So?”

“So?” I repeat. My laugh escapes before I can stop it, but there’s nothing funny in it. It’s all shock and incredulity. “You were in my apartment, in my bed, with my boyfriend. And now I find you here. In the school where this all started. And all you can say is so?”

Tiffany’s expression changes then. A meanness comes into it that was always probably there, but it was hidden under panic and the rush to get dressed the first time I saw her.

Mrs. Kline steps forward as though she thinks she can regain control of the situation with rigid posture alone. “I think everyone needs to lower their voices and⁠—”

“No,” I snap.

I’m done being handled. Done being managed. Done being told to stay calm while people make me smaller until there’s barely anything left.

“I am not lowering my voice,” I say. “Not this time.”

Tiffany’s eyes flash. “You always think everything’s about you.”

“Is this about Max?” June asks.

The woman looks away too fast. Bingo.

Fletcher lets out a low breath beside me. Rex mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like there it is. Wayne doesn’t say a word, but I can feel how still he is, and somehow that feels more dangerous than if he were shouting.

Tiffany adjusts her grip on the cart again. “What about Max?”

Mrs. Kline looks between us, finally losing some of her polished control. “June, if this is about your personal life, this is not the appropriate⁠—”