What none of them knew—what they were too wrapped up in their own damage to notice—was that she was on the other side of that door. I felt it. The shift. That subtle stillness that only ever came with her. No footsteps, no voice—just presence.
And she’d heard enough to know we were all fucking liars.
Scarlett
Zeke blew past us, storming out the door without a word. Sloane and Lena slipped upstairs to change for the lake, leaving me in the quiet that followed.
I didn’t mean to hear it.
Didn’t mean to press my ear to the door like I was six again, listening to my parents fight through the door. But once I heard my name—once I heard Trace’s voice—I couldn’t move.
And then I couldn’t breathe.
“She’s not ready.”
“She’s the reason all this is happening.”
“You love her.”
“So do I.”
Every word felt like it had claws.
I stood there for god knows how long. Long enough to feel cold. Long enough to hate every fucking second I’d spent in that shower thinking Trace was different.
He wasn’t.
None of them were.
I walked into the house like my bones were on fire.
They looked up at me like I was a ghost.
“What the actual fuck is going on?” I asked.
No one answered.
So I laughed. Not the cute kind. Thefuck-you-allkind.
“This was supposed to be my birthday weekend, remember? Wine, lake, friends, maybe a little drama—butnotwhatever the hell this is.”
Trace took a step toward me, but I held up my hand.
“Don’t. Don’t do that thing where you get quiet and stare at me like you’re hurting. I don’t care.”
Alden’s jaw twitched. “Scar—”
“No,” I snapped. “You don’t get to ‘Scar’ me right now. Not when you’ve all clearly been keeping some secret under wraps like I’m too fragile to handle it.”
I looked at Kane. “What, you too? You gonna tell me this is all just a coincidence?”
He didn’t speak.
Rhett looked away.
God, I wanted to fucking break something.
“I trusted you,” I said, eyes locking on Trace. “You act like I’m your friend—your best friend. You all are my safe place, but I don’t feel safe with any of you anymore.”