Page 159 of Twisted Collide

I shrug. “A massage, face mask, and then binge-watch my favorite scary movie franchise.” Dane jumps up from the bed, springing into action.

“Done. Done and done. Give me five minutes.” He pivots his weight from one foot to the other, and his face grows serious as if he’s thinking. “Do you have a face mask?”

“Go look in the bathroom. That seems like something Sherry would have brought to the guest room; she was very thorough.”

He strolls toward the bathroom, and then I hear the telltale sounds of a man rummaging. What does that sound like? It sounds like a toddler looking for their favorite toy—a loud hinge from opening a cabinet, the slam of closing said cabinets, a crash of lord knows what, and then a groan.

“Found it!” he screams, and I can’t help but giggle. A second later, he strides back into the room with a few plastic packets clutched in his hand. He looks so damn proud of himself. Steps purposeful, the posture of a king.

The gleam in his eyes makes me melt when he gives me the packets. “I can’t do it alone. Do it with me.”

I hold one out to him, and he raises an eyebrow. “You want me to wear a face mask?”

“It would be a super good grovel,” I tell him, biting my lip.

No way will he say yes.

His lips press together. “Please don’t take a picture and send it to the team, no matter how tempting. Hudson won’t let me live it down.”

My mouth falls open. Did he really just agree to a home spa day with me? “You don’t have to.”

“Actually, I do.” He takes the mask.

A few minutes later, we both have masks on—our faces covered in a layer of goo.

“You look very sexy in that,” I tell him, giggling.

“Is this how you like me?” He tries to look serious but ends up laughing.

“Yep. All goopy.”

An hour later, I’m tucked in my new big fluffy bed when there’s another knock on my door.

Knowing Dane, he probably left something here.

I tuck some stray hair out of my face, hoping I don’t look like I just ate myself into a contraband food coma and hid the takeout containers in the hallway trashcan.

“Come in.”

The door creaks as it’s pushed open.

“Oh, Josie.”

That is not Dane’s voice.

Nope.

It’s the one person I told not to come, but it seems like with all things in my life, she’s once again chosen not to listen.

She steps into my room, and my eyes widen at her appearance. My mother looks like shit—disheveled and exhausted. Like she drove all night. Did she sleep? Doesn’t she have work?

“Why are you here? Don’t you have someplace to be? Perhaps taking care of those bills you love to remind me about. The ones that areallmy fault.”

She winces, drawing my eyes to the deep circles rimming her lower lashes. “I deserve that. I took things out on you that I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I made you feel like a burden.”

“Want to know what I learned in my time away from you?”

She staggers away, probably taken aback by the raw fury in my voice. “Jos—”

---