Page 69 of Mortify

She pulls me into a hug, careful and warm. "That's all any of us can do. But Everly? Be careful. Four months of sneaking around... that's a long time to keep a secret."

"I know."

She pulls back, cups my face. "If you need anything?—"

"I know," I repeat. "Thank you."

She nods and follows Dad, probably to keep him from doing something stupid.

The party slowly returns to normal, though I catch people whispering, staring.

The news will be all over town by morning.

Knocked up by a biker, finally free of that asshole Dylan.

At least that's the story they'll tell.

"Come on," Regnor says quietly. "Let's get your stuff."

The drive to my apartment is silent.

I stare out the window, processing everything that just happened.

In the span of hours, I've gone from hiding everything to having it all laid bare.

Well, almost everything.

"You okay?" he asks as we pull up to my building.

"You said you love me."

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Yeah."

"Did you mean it?"

"I’ve always had love for you, Ev. For years now, but I said it to get your father off our backs a little bit." He turns to look at me. "Didn't mean to say it like that. In front of everyone. But yeah, I meant it. I think I’m gonna fall head over heels for you in no time, though."

"Regnor—"

"You don't have to say it back," he interrupts. "I know this is complicated for you. I know you're just trying to survive. But it's not fake for me. Hasn't been for a while."

My throat closes up.

How do I tell him that the lines blurred for me, too?

That somewhere between him making me toast and holding my hair while I threw up and facing down Dylan in a grocery store, fake became real?

"Let's get my things," I say instead.

We pack quickly—clothes, toiletries, the few things that matter.

My life fits into two suitcases and a duffel bag.

Honestly, I don't even know if I want to come back here.

Maybe I’ll call my landlady and let her know she can rent it out.

"That's it?" he asks.

---