Page 35 of Whiskey Reveals

Fox cupped her face then and kissed her softly. The touch of his lips against hers went straight to her core, and she was thankful when he pulled away so she could think. That was the problem with Fox, she could never get her thoughts in order when he was around. And that was probably why she was pregnant and beyond confused.

“Of course, I had to. I know we’re doing our best to not define what we are, but you’ve been in my bed, we talk and text for hours a day, and you’re carrying my child. We’re part of each other’s lives, no matter what titles and labels we put on it.”

“You’re right,” she said, obviously surprising him if the look in his eyes was any indication. “Can I come over after this? There’s a few things I need to tell you.”

He gave her a curious look but nodded. “Let me help you clean up. The caterers did most of it, but there is probably a few things left I bet.”

Relieved and nervous at the same time, she gave him her best smile that she had a feeling didn’t quite reach her eyes. Fox was right in that there wasn’t much to do, but she wanted the studio to shine since the real opening day would be right after the long weekend. Then she’d work with children and adults of all ages and practice and begin her new life once again. Since she wasn’t actually dancing all day, she could work while pregnant for sure. She had seen previous instructors in that position, but it wouldn’t be easy. Just another thing to add to her list. As long as she stayed organized and steady, she might not stress out to the point of getting sick again.

Fox was in the front of the studio, mopping the floors while Melody went out with the last of the trash bags. The caterers and Fox had cleaned up the heaviest of the mess so she didn’t have to lift a lot, but there was still a tiny bag left that she wanted out of the building and into one of the cans outside. There was a slight chill in the air, but she didn’t mind as she’d been slightly overheated with the amount of people at the party and being near Fox in general, but as she stared at what lay in front of the trash cans ice filled her veins.

“Melody? What’s wrong? What the fuck is that?”

She swallowed hard. “Fox? I think you need to call the police. I think you need to now.”

Because in front of the cans lay a single ballet toe shoe, the ribbons pristine yet splayed out above the shoe itself. But it was the drops of red, of what could be blood on the pink silk that told her that she’d been wrong before about the flowers. Wrong about the email and the note. Wrong about so much.

Someone was taunting her, stalking her, and she could only guess why.

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