Page 105 of Shattered Veil

Zoey’s head bobbed up and down, she hesitated for but a second, and her smile grew into a wry, wide one.

“Are you saying that because of whoever was on the phone earlier? Baby?”

Now, I’m never caught off guard. I swear, I’m not. But her oh-so-casual mention of the term that I’ve started using for James threw me for a goddamn loop—I had no idea that she would be able to hear me while I spoke with him on the phone earlier, even if she were awake.

I sucked in a sharp breath. Air stung the whites of my eyes. I was entirely unable to pull my gaze from hers as I rapidly inquired:

“Come again?”

Zoey brought her mug to her mouth, her eyes dancing above the lip as she drank, and she was barely able to swallow before she asked:

“Is that what baby tells you to do? Come again?”

Words left me. I could have said anything. Potential answers rushed me in a flurry—yes, no, or it’s none of your business seemed too little of a response. I’m abstinent was too much of a lie, and would have caused her to burst into laughter. Uh huh, and it’s James’ hands, face, and cock that I’ve come on—repeatedly was just…too much of a slap in the face of unknown information. So, unfortunately, all that I could manage was a near-vibrating:

“Um…”

Zoey gave me a knowing look. “You used to strip, Cassie—this you get flustered over?”

I cleared my throat. “Liam didn’t, ah…he didn’t hear anything, did he?”

“Oh…no-no, he was asleep,” she muttered, clearly thinking that my concern was only regarding my brother overhearing me. “But…for the record, I’m a very good secret keeper.” I let out an incredulous laugh, and she retorted, “What? I am. I’m actually the best one in this whole damn town—don’t tell your secrets to Claire.” She pointed at me with purpose from across the table. “Her and Luke practically share a brain. Love her, but she’s a gossip.”

It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable speaking with Zoey about my romantic life. On the contrary, it would be a sisterly bonding that I believed I would enjoy. The subject of my romantic endeavors, however, caused unease to wriggle under my skin because…well…she had dated him. It was months ago, I wasn’t there to witness it, and from what I had heard, it was over quite quickly…but she still had dated James. And fact aside that I knew she was in love with my brother—fact aside that I had never seen her so much as glance in James’ direction in a suggestive manner—I still questioned how she would react about us.

“Ah,” I hesitated. “It’s new.”

While true, it didn’t feel new. It was unfathomable to me that the first time the energy had significantly shifted between me and James—when I had started to give him a dance at Gas Lamp—was only just over a week ago. Our first kiss was this past Thursday, along with the fighting concepts of forgetting our feelings and irrelevancy. Irrelevancy quickly won. We slept in each other’s beds two times each. And, now, it was Monday.

It was a shockingly small amount of time considering the intensity of our relationship. And, sure, James was no stranger to me before. He was far from it, but that didn’t mean that what had grown between us hadn’t gone off like a goddamn bomb.

“New, huh?” Zoey waggled her perfectly manicured brows, and then dramatically whispered, “Is the sex good?”

It would have been hilarious otherwise. If she weren’t unknowingly asking about James, I would have laughed loudly—perhaps I even would have proudly replied yes. But because of the hidden nature of the circumstances, my face went hot, and I found myself tearing my eyes from hers to look at the large clock on my right that hung on the wall. The vintage blue, almost rustic design of the analog had two arms pointing nearly in the same direction—one approaching 9 and the other approaching 10. And I had known that it was around 9:45 in the morning…but there was something about the combination of the visible reminder, Zoey’s asking who baby was, and the realization that my phone hadn’t made a peep in over two hours that made me question the time.

“Sorry, sorry,” Zoey trilled. “I’m a sucker for details…but I will say that you’re blushing.”

Her mention of my flushed cheeks was barely even heard. My eyes narrowed at the wall as the gears cranked in my mind, and I picked up my phone, which had been purposefully resting face down on the table beside me.

There were no new notifications.

“Which either means yes…or you haven’t done it yet.” She continued her interrogation. “And you’ve definitely done it.”

I knew what she said—I did—but my brain had yet to register it. I rapidly typed to James:

Cassie 9:42 A.M.: You make it to work? x.

I watched it send, set it down, and then looked back to Zoey. “Huh?”

She squinted, halting only God knows what her next words were, and her tone deepened as she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I—”

My phone buzzed, and I let out a sigh as I read:

James 9:43 A.M.: Yes.

Blinking several times in succession as foolish relief flooded me, I mumbled to Zoey, “Sorry, one sec,” as I messaged back:

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