Page 99 of Shadow Dance

“I could’ve been a killer, jumping into your car like that,” I half-tease.

“Nah,” he says, putting the car in drive. “I saw you comin’.”

I squint at him. “Did you, though?”

“I’ve clocked everybody on this street,” he says breezily. “Father Time over there’s been working on the same cuppa for the past hour and shit, look at these thugs. Neighborhood’s really going downhill.” He zeroes in on a little boy skipping into a nearby cookie shop with his dad.

Snickering, I buckle up as we start driving.

“How was class, twinkle toes?”

“Great. I think Malika Carson is going to be the next Misty Copeland.”

“Couldn’t be happier,” he says. “Listen, you okay with me dropping you off at T’s? I got an errand to run for Lucky.”

“That’s fine,” I say with a shrug. Not like we have much of a choice. Luckymight be one of Alex’s best friends, but he’s still his boss. If he needs him to do something, that’s it.

We chat all the way to Tristan and Evie’s building, where Alex parks illegally so he can accompany me to the top floor. They know we’re here, and the door swings open before we even knock. Tristan gives me a quick hug before knocking Alex’s fist. “Thanks, Al,” he says, dropping his voice. “You still on your way to do that thing?”

“Yeah.” Alex nods. “You got the other thing?”

Rolling my eyes, I push past them to where a grinning redhead waits with open arms. “Hey, Evie.”

“Hey, honey,” she coos, wrapping me in a hug as gentle as her Georgia accent. She and Tristan have spent the past two years bouncing between here and Savannah. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay.” I give her a soft smile. Like Bria, Evie’s been through some shit. I can be real with her.

“Some days are better than others,” she says, her hand lingering on my arm. We walk deeper into their condo, which smells like incense but also something savory. My stomach growls. “Hope you’re hungry, because we made a ton of quiche. Tristan went a little overboard.”

“Tristan, overboard? Never!” I say in mock shock, hand to my chest. “Lucky for you, I’m starving.”

Snorting, she leads me to the kitchen, where there are about fifty mini quiches cooling on the counter. Tristan’s always liked to cook, and Evie is dismal at it, so he’s been teaching her. It’s cute.

Behind us, Alex and Tristan are still murmuring about money and timelines but I tune them out. I grew up in this world, and I’ve resigned myself to it, but ignorance is usually bliss.

“Your mom dropped this off the other day. I’m kind of in the mood for a wine spritzer,” muses Evie, holding up a bottle of white. “Want one?”

“That sounds great,” I say, dropping my bag as I take a chair at the counter.

“Bye, Maeve,” Alex calls from the door. “Text me if you need me.”

“Okay,” I call back. “Thanks.”

My brother eyes me as he takes the chair beside me. He’s got big brother concern all over his face, the kind that makes me want to either cry or punch something. I’m leaning toward punching.

“What?” I ask warily.

“How you doin’?” he asks gently. “For real. None of this ‘fine’ bullshit.”

“And here I thought you had me over so I could chill with Evie,” I tease. “And apparently eat quiche ‘til I hurl. We should send a few over to Liam—I bet he’d love these.”

But his patient eyes bore into mine. “C’mon, Mae.”

“I’m in the same place that I was yesterday, and the day before that,” I say, reaching gratefully for the drink Evie places in front of me. I know Tristan means well, but sometimes it’s exhausting—everyone worried about me and checking in on me all the time. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah.” He nods, a faraway expression in his eyes for just a second before he snaps out of it. “Yeah, I do know.”

I squeeze his hand. I know he knows.

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