Page 67 of Dance of Ruin

I laugh and cross to her, hugging her as gently as I can, trying not to fall apart.

“Oh myGod, have I missed you!” I groan before I pull away. “You look good!”

She snorts. “I look like hell, but thanks. And the baby’s okay. We’rebothokay. That’s what matters.”

I brush a stray piece of hair from her forehead. “Everyone’s been talking about you nonstop. We were so fucking worried about you.”

“I was, too,” she says softly. “And about the little one.” She shivers, but then her eyes sparkle. “Don’t tell Kratos. He’s already acting like I’m made of glass.”

I laugh again, but it’s forced.

Because under all the sweetness and light is a gnawing weight in my chest that I can’t explain to her, or share.

Hi, yes, super close bestie, I’m hooking up with your brother in an insane, probably toxic arrangement based on blackmail involving a tape of an assault that I’m still not sure how to process.

What’s up with YOU?!

Bianca and I are great friends. But no friendship is strong enough that you can tell someone you crawled to their brother naked on all fours. No friendship survives “your brother” and “butt plugs” in the same sentence.

I sit beside her on the edge of the bed. We catch up. I pointedly do not steer the conversation toward her family once.

She complains about the food. I tease her about being a princess on bedrest.

“Ooo!” she suddenly blurts. “Wanna hear the heartbeat?”

I blink. “Wait, what? You can hear it already?”

“Yeah!” she grins, her face flushed with excitement. “I mean, it’ll be all the time later.” Her hand drifts to her belly, still barely showing. “But they gave me a recording of the one they picked up yesterday. I’ve probably played it twenty times already.”

“I wouldlove to!”

She pulls her phone out, taps a few times, and holds it up.

At first, the sound is so faint I almost miss it.

Then, there it is: steady. Rapid. Light, like butterfly wings.

And it’sbeautiful.

Bianca frowns slightly at me.

“Hey…you okay?” she asks quietly.

I nod. “Oh, for sure.”

Liar.

But how do I tell her that I’m not? I mean, she just gotcar bombed, and I’m moping about…what…my feelings not being organized?

Please.

Yes, I’m spinning. Yes, I’m tangled up in something I don’t understand. Yes, her brother has his hands around my throat in more ways than one, and I don’t know if I want him to let go.

But I say none of that, because I’m a coward.

Instead, I just tap her phone, listening to that beautiful heartbeat again.

“So, do you know yet, boy or girl?”

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