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My lips part to respond, but I’m too confused to actually find any words.

“Uh… I know I drank too much. I’m sorry if I caused—”

“You don’t owe me any kind of apology, sweetheart.” She gives me a soft smile, one which I should probably receive a time or two from my mother. But I’m not sure she’s capable of it.

“I’ve known for a while,” she starts, not helping me out with what we’re actually talking about in any way. “I hoped that maybe you’d figure out that I knew and that you’d talk to me about it.”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He really cares about you, Calli. And I must admit, I was concerned when Alex started hanging out down here with you, but it seems that nothing has changed. He was here when you needed him, just like he always seems to be.”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish plucked right out of its tank.

“You know?” I whisper, barely able to process this with my veins still sixty percent vodka.

“Talk to me, Calli. I can see you’re hurting and I hate it. I’m not your mother, I won’t judge you or criticise your choices. You are a smart, thoughtful young woman, and I trust you know what’s best for you.”

Tears burn the backs of my eyes as I stare at her kind face.

A sob rips up my throat a second before I fall into her arms.

“It’s such a mess, Jocelyn. I don’t even…” I suck in a shaky breath.

She cups my face in her hands and stares into my eyes.

“He was here last night.” It’s meant to come out as a question, but it doesn’t, because deep down, I already know. I might have woken up dreaming about him, but just like previous experiences, it was drawn from reality.

“I think he must have been outside watching. Silly, silly boy. If anyone had seen him, they’d have shot him dead, loitering in the shadows.”

I suck in a breath, thinking of him risking his life like that.

“He’s fine, sweetie. Well, aside from the broken heart he’s suffering with.”

Her words do little for my emotional state and silent tears continue to track down my cheeks, dripping down and soaking into my vest.

“He knew that you’d passed out on the sofa. He scared the living daylights out of me, turning up like a ghost in the dead of night, and then marched down to the den, scooped you up and carried you down here. “

“How long did he stay?”

She shakes her head. “I have no idea. I didn’t intrude. When I checked in on you this morning, he was gone.”

My heart gets heavier with every word she tells me.

“What happened last week, Calli?”

“Can I?” I ask, nodding toward the mug she brought, needing something, anything to get me through this.

Cupping the mug in my hands, I sip the hot coffee, allowing it to warm me from the inside out.

“It was everything,” I confess. “He… he’s incredible, Jocelyn. And no one really sees it. It’s heartbreaking. I hate that he feels like he has to put this front on for everyone, like they’ll only like him, include him if he’s this ruthless, brutal soldier and not the person he hides beneath the mask.”

She takes my hand again, encouraging me to keep talking.

And I do. I tell her everything. The relief of finally telling someone—other than Alex, who’s lived through it with us—takes such a weight off my shoulders, I wonder why I haven’t done it before.

“My parents will never accept it,” I say finally. “That’s why he’s walked away.”

“Calli,” she warns, sadness and compassion in her voice. “Did the girl last night who wore that sexy, revealing dress care about what her parents thought?”