Page 38 of Heat & Deceit
“Are the guys doing okay?”
She rolls her eyes but grins. “They’re obnoxious as usual, but I love them.”
“Any new drama?” I set the blanket covering me to the side and grab the empty cans of sparkling water, following Kiki into the kitchen.
“There’s always drama with the club, but nothing we can’t handle.” Her foot hits the lever to the trash can, and the top springs open.
I jolt and race to toss the cans in, feeling as though the soft thud of aluminum against the pie filling is as loud as a bomb. I grab her trash to keep her from seeing the demolished desserts, but it’s too late. Kiki’s face contorts as she peeks into the trash can before I can drop the disposable containers inside.
“That’s a lot of pie.”
I wince. “I made too much.”
Biting her lip, she draws her eyebrows down and flits her gaze between me and the trash can. I throw the plates inside and cross my arms. Glancing away from the concern lining her face, I breathe out and count to five before slowly breathing in.
There’s no reason to panic.
“Nova?”
I pinch my eyes shut. “It’s not what it looks like.” Guilt and shame roll through me, and my head drops, shoulders slumping in defeat.
“Okay...” Kiki trails off. “So, what is it?”
There’s no judgment in her question, but there is a crap load of worry.
Shrugging, I force my eyes to open and lift my chin, meeting her gaze. The only reason I can respond is because I think she’s about three seconds away from calling the guys. As much as I love her mates, they’re overbearing. They knew the old Nova, before she was sold to Curtis, and then they saw the version of me I’d rather forget. Now they see me as sober Nova. I don’t want to witness the looks on their faces when they realize rehab wasn’t the magical cure we all hoped it would be.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Kiki says softly. “I only need to know that you’re okay. Are you okay? I can stay if you need me.”
“No. I mean, yes, I’m okay, and no, you don’t need to stay.” I blow out a hard breath and turn, pacing to the door and then returning to where she stands, wringing my hands as I try to put words to what I’m going through. “Sometimes I get this feeling... and at first, I couldn’t figure out how to make it go away. Then one day at rehab, I brought it up in the group session, and they suggested finding something to do to distract myself. A few suggested running, but I don’t like that sort of stuff.” I gesture to the trash can. “So I started baking.”
“That seems like a good idea.” Kiki tips her head a little and searches my face. “But you don’t seem happy.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that I’m unhappy.” Pursing my lips, I struggle to articulate the next part. The part that makes me want to crawl under the covers and disappear. “It’s that, even after rehab, the cravings still come.”
And the pies are just proof of how weak I am.
I don’t say that part aloud. She probably already knows that.
“Are they supposed to go away?” Kiki asks. “Have you talked to your counselor?”
“No.”
“It might not be a bad idea.” Kiki steps toward me but stops when I stiffen. “Sorry,” she says quickly. “If you’re struggling, they can help. I don’t know what you’re going through, but I can stay with you until you feel better. I’ll do whatever you need. Just talk to me, okay? Don’t hide it.”
I scoff. “You don’t want to hear about this stuff.”
Her face hardens. “Friends don’t let friends suffer alone.”
There’s that word again.
Friends.
I’m grateful for her in more ways than she’ll ever know, but I’m also terrified I’ll let her and the guys down. It’s part of why I find it so hard to drop my guard around her and really let her in.
No. She can’t stay.
I’ll get through this.
