Page 138 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

“It’s pretty bad. I’ll get you an ice pack before you leave.”

He drags himself out of bed and slips his clothes back on while I crack the door open and peer out. There are no sounds in the house, and I wave him to come with me when I step out into the hall. With his shoes in his hand, he’s as quiet as I am as I lead him down the stairs. When we pass through the kitchen, I grab an ice pack from the freezer and then follow him to the back door.

“Here,” I murmur and hand it to him.

As silently as possible, I unlock the door, but the click sounds a thousand times louder than it should.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you,” he says in a hushed voice as he steps outside before tugging me in for a hug.

“Will you come back tonight?”

“Is that okay?”

I nod, and he tells me, “I’ll meet you at Marina later,” since we’re skipping school again today.

I watch as he shoves his shoes on and then makes his way down the side of the house. He rounds the corner, and when I go back inside, I close the door a split second before my mother walks into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she says as I walk over to the island as casually as I can. “You’re up early.”

“So are you.”

“Homecoming.” She pulls a coffee mug down and opens the fridge to get the creamer. “We have a bunch of orders this morning. Needless to say, I won’t be around much for today and tomorrow; you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” I mumble. I’m supposed to be photographing the game tonight, but there is no way in hell that’s going to happen.

I’m terrified to return to school, so there is no chance I’m going to the football game tonight, let alone the dance tomorrow night. I promised Sebastian I’d go back to school on Monday, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to actually follow through on that.

Everyone will be looking at us—at me. I can’t deal with that kind of attention, and no matter how much Sebastian tries to assure me that it’ll be okay, it does nothing for my trepidation.

“What’s that?”

Snapping out of my thoughts, I look over to my mom, whose eyes are locked on my wrist. I was mindlessly itching my tattoo and hadn’t realized it. My stomach lurches as I shove my sleeve down.

“Are you marking your scar again?”

“No!” I spit out too defensively, folding my arms across my chest and tucking my hands beneath them.

“Harlow ...” Her voice pitches in worry.

“Mom, stop. I’m not marking my scar, I promise.”

It’s a promise that falls on deaf ears as she sets her coffee down and walks over to me, holding out her palm. “Let me see.”

She’s bound to find out eventually, and the last thing I need is her panicking again, so with a sigh of annoyance, I hold out my arm.

Shoving my sleeve up, she literally gasps when she sees the tattoo. In disbelief, she turns my wrist until she can see the bow. Her eyes flick to mine. “Please tell me this is fake.”

I pull my arm away.

“Harlow, is that real?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Her mouth gapes. “Like hell it isn’t! When did you get that?”

“On my birthday.”

She exhales a hard breath out of her nose and perches a fist on her hip. “With Sebastian?”

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