Page 104 of I'll Keep Her Safe

And this time, I decide, Kurt has gone too far.

Too. Fucking. Far.

I glance at my phone, thoughts swirling as I try to think of how to reply. There’s no point in denying it—she’s got the evidence right there. She knows.

Sucking in a breath, I type out a reply.

Poppy: I’m so sorry. We were going to tell you tonight.

I send off the message, thinking I’m done, then more words spill out of me, my fingers flying across the screen without my permission.

Poppy: And it’s not about sex. We’re in love and we’re really happy. We want a future together.

Then I set my phone down on the bed before I can say anything more. Anything that might make the situation worse.

But it buzzes immediately with a reply, and I snatch it up.

Bailey: Thanks for confirming it. I’ve got to go.

Poppy: Can I call you? Or you could come back to the house and we can talk about it?

Bailey: Flight’s boarding. Sorry.

Then her status changes:Offline. My eyes sting as I hold my phone to my chest, so many emotions churning through me that I don’t even know what to think.

Kurt hacked my phone.

Bailey knows.

And Wyatt will be furious.

Wyatt

When Poppy comesinto my room, I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, absently stroking Sugar. I haven’t changed from the T-shirt and jeans I wore to dinner, and neither has she. Her face is ashen as her eyes meet mine.

“What is it?” I ask, my pulse quickening as I stand. We’ve waited hours for Bailey to show up, but I haven’t heard a word from her. I don’t know where she is.

Poppy presses her eyes shut, clutching her phone tightly in her hand. “Wyatt… I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” I take her gently by the shoulders, trembling under my hands. “What is it?”

“She knows,” Poppy whispers. “Bailey knows.”

My breath freezes in my lungs. “What?”

“She’s on a flight home.” Poppy slips from my grasp, sinking to the edge of the bed beside the cat, her face a mask of misery as she gazes at me. I lower myself beside her, my heart clenching.

“Tell me what happened, baby.”

But instead of speaking, she hands over her phone, open to a conversation with my daughter. I scroll through the messages, my stomach dissolving as they confirm my worst fear.

Bailey knows. She knows about me and Poppy, and she has the proof.

God, my poor girl. She must feel so betrayed, so hurt that we didn’t tell her. It’s not like Bailey to run off without saying goodbye, and I can hardly blame her. There’s a wrench in my heart as I imagine her getting onto a plane, trying to process the news of me and Poppy. She must be in shock.

I scan her messages again, trying to read between the lines, to figure out how mad she is, but they give little away.

And as the bombshell of her learning about us settles, another question rises.

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