Page 98 of The Lodge

My cheeks turn to fire immediately.

“I had no idea Sebastian would be here—”

“You know I’m not talking about Sebastian. Tyler—Tyler Fox—yourski instructor?”

“Okay, please don’t be mad.” I close my eyes, make a gut decision. Chloe is not my sister; Chloe is worthy of my trust. If I believe anything right now, it has to be that. “I only just figured it out, and Iwantedto tell you, but it really didn’t feel like my secret to tell. But then Lauren showed up last night unannounced—and then Sebastian showed up at my door this morning, also unannounced—and I have no idea when Lauren snapped that photo or why she would share it, but now the whole world is putting it together and I’ve even already gotten an email asking me to confirm the rumors.”

Chloe shakes her head in awe. “I… don’t even know where to begin with all that. She seriously shared it without even talking to you first?”

“Right?! What was she thinking?”

“Sounds like shewasn’tthinking,” Chloe says. “And I’m not mad at you, by the way—I get why you didn’t tell me. Honestly, I’m impressed you were even able to keep a secret like that.”

This right here:thisis why I wish Chloe were here right now instead of Lauren.

From the far end of the penthouse, I hear the faint click of the front door.

I glance behind me instinctively, even though it isn’t physically possible for Lauren to have made it all the way into my bedroom in the last half second.

“I think she just got back,” I whisper, exaggerating my words in case Chloe can’t make them out well enough.

“Good luck,” she whispers back with a grimace. “Text me later?”

“You know I will.”

When we end the call, the post fills my screen like a punch in the gut. Lauren’s photo is so perfect it’s almost staged—an unmistakably clear shot of Sebastian, River, and Tyler as if they’re all characters in some kind of sitcom. Tyler’s face is a mess of disbelief and confusion, much more reminiscent of his trademark Jett Beckett scowl than his laid-back ski instructor vibe.

And the comments.

The comments are wild.

Some people in the mix should work for the CIA, that’s how good they are at tracking down personal information—though the whole screaming-it-for-the-entire-world thing would probably be a nonstarter for their careers as secret agents.

“Knock, knock!” Lauren says brightly, not actually knocking on my bedroom doorjamb. She’s carrying two takeout coffees, one in each hand. “Brought you a maple latte, but you can have my vanilla one if that sounds better. I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

I stare at her like she’s sprouted an extra head.

“Um… is everything okay?” Her face twists in confusion.

I think she legitimately has no idea. No clue what she started by coming to the resort—by taking that photo and sending it to whoever she sent it to.

“Maple latte sounds good,” I say evenly, reaching out. “Thanks.”

It’s hot and sweet and comforting, exactly what I need right now.

Lauren sinks onto the bed beside me, one leg curled up underneath her.

“What’s going on?” she asks, eyeing me over the top of her latte. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I scroll up to make sure the Dewdrops post is fully visible, thenhand my phone over. Her eyes widen when she realizes what it is. What’s happened.

She looks up at me, panicked.

“I only told two people, I swear! And I told them not to share it! I have no idea who this person is who posted it.”

“What did youthinkwould happen? Of course they shared it. Of course it’s going viral—no one has seen or heard from Jett Beckett for almost a decade, Lauren!”

“I didn’t tell them it was him! And sorry, but, like, don’t you spread celebrity news for a living? How is this any different?”

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