Page 163 of Scrum Heat

He winces. “The rest were burner accounts. But Frankie, I’m telling you—all of them came from that house. From your mom’s Wi-Fi.”

My whole body locks.

This is the woman who made my lunches and reminded me to wear sunblock and told me not to believe everything I read online. This is the woman who cried when I left home and said she was just worried I’d get hurt.

And now she’s the one who’s been handing out knives?

“No,” I whisper again, but it’s not denial this time.

It’s the start of something breaking.

“Was it her?” My voice is barely audible. “Or him?”

“Most likely?” Theo says. “Both.”

Something inside me splinters.

The comments, the cruel jokes, the DM requests pretending to be advice, but really just tearing me down. Every moment of doubt, every inch of shame I’d been trying to shake off for weeks.

It wasn’t strangers. It wasn’t even Denton Vale.

It washer.

“All this time…” My voice barely makes it past my throat. “Every horrible thing I read—every insult, every doubt—it came from myown mother?”

I can’t tell if I’m going to cry or throw up.

“I thought it was strangers,” I go on, too fast now, voice climbing. “I thought it was trolls and jealous girls and Denton Vale and thatidiotMarcus with his banana-peel morals and weirdly smug face—”

My breath hitches.

“I trusted her,” I choke. “To notlikeit, maybe. To notgetit. But I didn’t think—mygod, I didn’t think she’d sabotage it. That she’d sabotageme.”

“Frankie—”

I push back from the chair too fast, and it screeches.

“I just—I need to—I can’t—”

My whole body feels too tight for my skin. My brain is doing laps, my throat is on fire, my heart’s beating so fast it hurts; and he’s justthere.

Not rushing me, not pushing me, but waiting.

The first tear slides down before I even notice it’s coming.

“I don’t get it,” I whisper. “What more does she want from me?”

Theo moves; pushing his own chair back swiftly before crossing the room and pulling me into him.

“She hatesme,” I say, my voice cracking as he holds me close.

“No,” Theo says, gently. “She doesn’t hate you, Frankie.”

And I break.

“I went to college,” I sob into his chest. “I got my degree, I’ve got a job, I’m not sleeping on anyone’s couch, I’m not asking her for money, I’m not dropping out or screwing around—”

“I know,” he murmurs, voice soft in my hair.

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