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“Exactly,” I snap. “I’m already mad at her and if you don’t tell me, I’m just going to call her and demand answers, so cough it up. What did she do?”

Lane sighs, his gaze falling to the ground again. “She said that if I didn’t accept her offer, she’d have me blacklisted. She said she knew all the coaches, and there would be no way any professional team would take me on. My times were already slipping but I thought I could pull it back.”

My heartbeat throbs in my throat as I watch him scuffing at the ground, a furrow between his brows.

“Your mom trapped me. If I hadn’t accepted her offer, the chances were, I’d have ended up in a college I couldn’t afford without a scholarship, or with better times but no team to swim for. I would have come to you, but she said that if I told you about the deal, she’d still get me blacklisted.” He looks at me, his eyes pleading. “I know it’s too late now, but I chose wrong. You mean so much more to me than swimming. Hell, I’d lick people’s feet clean for a living if that’s what it took for you to give me a second chance. I should have chosen you, JoyJoy. I’m so sorry.”

Anger thrums in my veins, but not at Lane. My mom is terrifying at the best of times. Threatening the future of an eighteen-year-old boy? I get how scared he must have been.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. “When you came back. When I forgave you? Like you said, she didn’t have anything over you.”

He huffs. “Yeah, well she did. She still managed to get me fired.”

Stepping closer to him, I reach out and touch his forearm. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Like I said, I didn’t want to come between you and your mom. You’d forgiven me without knowing the whole truth, so I didn’t think it would be worth dragging up the past and driving a wedge between you and her for no reason.”

After a minute of silence, I link my arm with his and tug until he starts walking. This is why I wanted some time and space, because I’ve already thought about this. When I haven’t been forcing my brain to concentrate on my finals, I’ve been contemplating what to do with Lane Masters. I already forgave him once, and I know it’s because a part of me never actually got over him. Perhaps I knew there must have been a reason for him to do that to me.

“Have you heard from Doug?” I ask.

He heaves a sigh and shakes his head. “Not since that last text he sent to the group.”

Aldo told us about their conversation but none of us were holding our breath. When he sent us a picture of himself sitting on what looked like a freezing cold beach covered in gray stones with a small polystyrene tray of fries on his lap, I’d laughed solidly for about ten minutes.

He doesn’t message often, but he checks in and that’s enough. I honestly thought we’d lost him for good.

“JoyJoy?” The hope in Lane’s voice squeezes around my heart like a vise.

I stop walking and look up at him, the warmth of his body seeping through my cardigan. “Yes?”

“You’re killing me.” He reaches out with his free hand and tucks my hair behind my ear, his fingers tracing my jaw. “Please. Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What I need to do so you’ll forgive me.” He drops his forehead to mine, his eyes falling closed. “I can’t lose you again, JoyJoy. I can’t.”

I reach up and slide my hands around his neck, pulling him down until our mouths are a breath apart. “Don’t lie to me again, Lane. Even by omission. I need you to trust me with the truth. The whole truth.”

His eyes are still closed, his expression pained as he nods gently, his forehead rubbing against mine. “I swear it, JoyJoy.”

“Okay, then,” I whisper against his lips.

His eyes open, staring deep into mine. “I love you so much. You know that, right? I never stopped. Not for one second.”

I tip my face, brushing my lips against his in a barely-there kiss. “I know. I love you, too.”

The words have barely left my lips when his arms slide around my waist, lifting me from the ground as he crashes his mouth to mine in a kiss that has my toes curling in my sneakers. By the time my feet touch the ground again, my face is flushed and I’m breathing hard.

“You need to speak to Aldo,” I say, combing my fingers through my hair and righting my cardigan.

Lane’s gleeful expression falters. “I know.”

Aldo has stayed neutral during the last couple of weeks because what happens between Lane and I affects all three of us. I know he’s found it hard, but the difficult truth was, if I didn’t forgive Lane, Aldo would have had to choose between us—or none of us.

“Why don’t we have dinner tonight?” I suggest. “Your place. We can invite Aldo and talk things out.”

Lane nods, taking my hand again as we start walking back toward the Hive. “Maybe we could try video calling Doug. You never know, he might answer.”

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