Page 30 of The Masks We Wear

My phone jolts in my bra, vibrating across my chest.

I pull it out, wondering if it’s him, but instead I frown. It’s an unknown number that’s called me almost every day this week. They don’t leave a message or text me back when I ask who it is, so I assume it’s spam.

We reach the landing just as I press ignore, shoving my phone in my jacket. Turning toward Blaze, I try to read his face. His beautiful eyes are low as if he’s tired, and his lips are clamped together in a thin line. But nothing out of the ordinary suggesting he disapproves of my prior and current actions.

Suddenly those eyes narrow and I freeze.

Shit.

He moves in closer, grabbing my chin with his finger and thumb, adjusting my head to look at the wounded side. After a beat, the nerve in his jaw tics. “When did this happen?”

“Today.”

“And you didn’t call me because?”

I sigh, more guilt piling on what’s already pulling me down. “Amora walked in when I was cleaning up.”

He clenches his teeth. “Where is the woman now?”

Blaze is the only one that knows the truth behind my scars. Not too long after I met him in eighth grade, I lied about one my mother left on my arm. Told him the same thing I tell everyone else—a mark from a cheer incident when it was really a bruise from the end of a broom. But that’s the thing about abused children. They can spot the lie in a heartbeat.

He came over later unannounced, barging into my house as though it was his, with a metal bat in tow. That’s when he found out I live alone, and that same night, he learned my mother lives almost an hour away. Ever since then, he’s taken care of the aftermath of her random visits.

“She’s gone,” I answer, softly moving my face from his grasp.

His chest heaves with his sigh before he nods. “Well, Amora didn’t clean it well. I’ll do it after the party, so it doesn’t get infected.”

My lips turn up just slightly, and I nod to the door. “Ready?”

“When you are.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. Even if Remy doesn’t know anything about my secrets today doesn’t mean Spencer won’t decide to spill his guts tomorrow, and I’ll be back to square one. The thought makes me realize the real reason I want to talk to her so badly. The whisper in the back of my head, I want to shut up once and for all. Shit, how far the mighty have fallen.

Hopefully she’s too drunk to even remember this.

Running a hand through my green ends, I yank, forcing myself to calm down, and open the door.

Remy stands near my desk, in almost the exact spot Spencer stood a few weeks ago. Her face is buried in a psychology book about managing the effects of childhood traumas. When she notices us, her eyes widen. “I-I’m sorry. I came up here for the b-bathroom, but came in the wrong room. Then I saw this b-book.”

I nod, walking over to my night table and flip on the lamp. “Got some daddy issues you need help with?”

Remy ignores my comment, her gaze stays on Blaze, who’s still standing at the door. He’s leaning against the frame, his large arms folded across his chest, but he’s looking at me.

There’s something floating in the air. Something tingling, yet suffocating, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. He may be uncomfortable because of who she is, and considering he’s going to Solace after graduation, this is a delicate situation.

Even so, I need to know if Spencer has told her anything.

“I’m sorry I’m in your room-m. I can leave now.” She puts the book back on my desk and wraps her arms around her middle. Remy’s face blooms a bright pink, and finally, her hazel eyes find me.

I grin, waving my hand as though dismissing her comment and flop down at the end of my bed. “That’s not a problem at all, Remy. I’m actually glad we ran into you. Stay.”

She stiffens, wiping her nose as her eyes bounce between Blaze and me. “I don’t-t want to i-interrupt.”

My brows draw together. “You’re not. I don’t recall you having a,” I pause, not wanting to offend her.

“A stutter-r?” Her hands wrap around her core tighter. “It only manifests when I’m extremely stress-ed. Or—”

“Drunk,” Blaze cuts in. He’s observing her intently now, almost as if he’s watching her mannerisms to commit to memory. Remy’s blush deepens, and I almost worry it’s from lack of air.

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