Page 185 of Piece Us Together

“It’s okay. He knows. Not everything, but the basics. He knows about the safehouse.”

“Oh.” Bryce eyes him. “Maison seriously let you tell him?”

“Maison’s the one who told him.”

Bryce’s eyebrows rise so high that I worry they’ll disappear. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Wow.” He shakes his head. Then shakes it some more. “Well, shit. Culinary school, huh?”

“Just some classes,” I correct, my face burning.

“It’s still big, Nol. Don’t downplay it.”

I just shrug.

Which is my mistake. Bryce takes this as a dire need to be cheered up. He does this, for some ungodly reason, by announcing, “We have to celebrate!”

“Oh. Um. No. Probably not.”

“A party!” Matt’s tablet says in an accent that’s either an awful take on Russian or a subtle German. “We’ll throw a party.”

And I can’t say no, now that Matt wants to. One day that’s going to stop working, but that day is definitely not today.

“I think a party would be great,” Hunter adds, which is the nail in the coffin.

“Fine. Okay.” I frown. “But I’m making the food.”

Bryce rolls his eyes. “No! You’llrelax.”

“Non-negotiable. I’m cooking.”

“Great. I’ll text the group chat now.”

“Oh, not tonight!” I say, slightly panicked. There’s no way after his session with Dr. Singh that Maison will be up for that tonight. “We can’t tonight.”

“Tomorrow?” he asks, his thumbs paused.

I look at Hunter, not even sure what fucking day it is. I don’t have his schedule memorized yet even if I did. He only gave it once, earlier in the week.

He nods. “Tomorrow works, sure.”

“Does Carter know about the three of you yet?” Bryce asks as he types away without looking up. “Does Travis?”

“Travis has his suspicions. I’m not sure if he would have shared them with Carter.”

“He probably did. He’s not big on keeping secrets from him anymore.”

Bryce winces. “So, we have that incoming.”

“Yup.”

“I’m sorry, what is incoming, exactly?” Hunter asks, leaning forward with his hands clasped.

“Carter throwing some sort of fit,” Bryce grumbles. “He was my friend first, how dare you? He’s fucked me, how gross could you be? Oh my god, Maison, can’t you just let me have one thing myself? I hate you. You suck. Blah, blah.”

“I have not fucked Carter. Jesus Christ—does Maison think I’ve fucked Carter?” he asks, turning to me with a deep frown. “Nolan?”

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