Page 73 of Crossover

The hardening edges of anger I’d swallowed softened in my stomach.

“You were just trying to protect me.” There was something healing in those words. Not surrendering my belief she should have handled it differently, but recognizing her heart and intentions were always in the right place.

Mom’s softened expression told me it had healed a lot for her, too.

“But that’s not what’s bothering you now,” she realized. “So, what’s going on, Ivy?”

Mom fixed me with a probing stare, which immediately brought the coward out in me. How could I tell her about my complicated feelings without alienating her? She was the only parent I had left, and I didn’t want to lose her in any way. Not even emotionally. I mean, what if she was so repulsed by what I’d done that she never talked to me again?

“I’m sorry. With everything that’s happened—fleeing Daniel, your life turned upside down…” I twisted my hands in my lap. “How are you holding up?”

“Stop deflecting. I want to know what’s wrong. You’re more upset than the last time I saw you.”

Just then, the door opened, and a uniformed police officer strode in, his heavy boots thudding against the linoleum. Every muscle in my body tensed. In my peripheral vision, Grayson imperceptibly shook his head. A silent command.

Don’t run. Don’t do anything that draws attention to yourself.

I exhaled slowly, trying to plaster on a neutral expression as the cop leaned against the coffee counter. Mom followed my gaze, brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

When his eyes swept the room, my heart slammed against my ribs like a prisoner pounding against the bars.

Does he recognize me?

“Do you think you’ll lose your job over this?” I forced myself to keep talking, keep looking as innocuous as possible.

“Why do you look so torn up?” Mom insisted. “Did something happen with Grayson?”

Damn it, Mom, say his name louder, why don’t you?

What if the cop was working for Daniel? Was on his payroll?

The police officer was speaking to a hotel staff person now.

“You first,” I demanded. “Do you think you’ll get fired over this?”

My mom evaluated me, and then, probably recognizing that I wasn’t going to move off the subject until she finally answered me, she sighed.

“I told them I had a family emergency.” She took a sip of her coffee, her red nails stark against the white mug. “They told me to take all the time I needed.”

Well, at least that was something positive.

“What about you?” Mom asked. “Do you think you’ll lose your job?”

I told myself I couldn’t worry about that right now; my bucket was full of so many other life-or-death battles.

“One thing at a time.” I shrugged, pivoting back to my original line of questions. “And emotionally? How are you?”

Going from a nine-to-five to being on the run from the CIA and learning your ex-boyfriend was responsible for your ex-husband’s death and now had a kill order out on your daughter—that was a big bucket of crap.

Mom’s eyes misted, and she blinked rapidly. “It’s a lot to process,” she admitted, her voice wavering slightly. “I loved Steve…not some man named Daniel. Learning that it was all a lie, that the man I loved never truly existed…well, I’m still struggling to come to terms with that. If I hadn’t let him into our lives, maybe…” Her thought trailed off.

God, poor Mom. She was a victim in all this, too. As I worked out what to say, a movement caught my eye—the cop cast a glance our way.

I tensed while Grayson shot me a silent warning, subtly flattening his palm, as if to say,Keep it calm.

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