Page 41 of Pastel Kisses

She laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t look so angry, Avery. I have good news.”

Oh, this should be good. I cross my arms over my stomach protectively. “What now?”

Sarah’s grin stretches wider, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “I might not be around as much moving forward.”

Hope flares in my chest, but I keep my face blank.

“See, the guys invited me to move in.” She waits, her gaze sharp, waiting for me to break. When I don’t, she sighs dramatically and continues, “And by the way, they now live in your house. So, I’ll be moving in as well.”

Every part of me freezes.

No.

She’s lying. She has to be.

But she looks too smug, too self-satisfied. And the worst part? It’s possible.

They were supposed to move inwith me. That’s where we were headed before I was taken.

But now? After months of grieving, after months of searching and coming up with nothing, did they finally give up? Did they decide that I wasreallygone?

Would they really let her into our home?

She smirks, watching me like a cat watches a trapped mouse. “I figured you’d want to know. Thought it might make you feel better, you know, knowing I’ll be taking care of your house in your absence.” Her voice is honeyed, saccharine and cruel. The wicked tilt of Sarah’s lips widens, her voice dripping with condescension as she tilts her head, feigning innocence. “And of course, the guys and I will be getting closer. We already are.”

My blood turns to ice.

She steps closer, her eyes glinting with triumph as she drinks in my reaction—or lack thereof. I won’t let her see how her words cut, how they slice through me like jagged glass.

She hums, tapping a manicured nail against her chin like she’s reminiscing about something warm, something intimate. “Jaxton and I have had the mostwonderfullate-night talks. He’s so broken without you, but I’ve been helping him through it. Comforting him when the loneliness gets too heavy. Poor thing—he practically melts into my touch. And the other night? He called me beautiful. Can you believe that?”

I clench my jaw, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. Lies. All of it. It has to be.

She moves to lean against the wall, watching me carefully. “Liam, on the other hand, took a bit more time. He’s always been a stubborn one, but even he’s starting to crack. The tension between us? It’s delicious. He still glares at me like he hates me, but that’s just because he’s fighting it. He’s slipping, little by little, whether he realizes it or not.” She lets out a mock sigh. “Honestly, I think helikesthe push and pull. He’s always been the serious one, hasn’t he?”

I grip my stomach instinctively, grounding myself. She’s lying. She has to be.

Sarah watches the movement with interest before continuing, her voice taking on a dreamy quality, as if she’s reliving something sacred. “Kamden’s the easiest, though. He’s practical. Logical. He knows they can’t wait forever, and guess what? He and I have actually been getting along quite well. He listens to me. He doesn’t snap at me the way he used to. Progress, wouldn’t you say?”

The room feels too small, the air thick and suffocating.

“And Lennox?” She lets out a breathy laugh, rolling her eyes. “Oh, Lennox. So angry, sofullof grief. But even grief gets exhausting, doesn’t it? Hewantsto hate me, but the thing about hate? It’s passionate. And passion is so easy to twist into something else.”

She takes another step forward, tilting her head. “It’s happening, Avery. They’re moving forward. And where are you?” Her smile turns vicious. “Nowhere. Just… fading.”

A sharp pain pierces my chest, a wound so deep I’m sure it’s bleeding out right in front of her. She’s lying. She’s manipulating me.

I inhale slowly, forcing my lips to curve into the smallest of smirks. “Funny,” I rasp, keeping my voice steady. “For someone who’s supposedly getting so close to them, you sure spend a lot of time worrying aboutme.”

Her expression flickers—just for a second—but it’s enough.

She hates that I’m still fighting. That I haven’t shattered yet.

And I won’t.

I grip my stomach tighter, grounding myself in the truth—the undeniable, unshakable truth. The room tilts, my stomach rolling violently, but I grit my teeth and stay standing. I won’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Instead, I breathe deeply, focusing on the weight of my baby beneath my palm.

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