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I back out of the room before I’m aware that I’m moving. With a wince, I pull the door shut behind me with more force than necessary and run my hands over my hair and face, every inch of me hot with shame.

Tucking tail, I make a beeline for my room. Kristen would shit her pants if she saw me running out of Bryce’s room like a naughty child, but I can’t help it. It’s that or?—

A door closing outside makes me freeze. The rich notes of Bryce’s voice follow after, and I stop breathing, my muscles locked up tight.

“You can come in if you want, D,” she offers.

“Thanks, but I’ve got to meet with Sasha, and you need a moment to yourself.”

It’s easy to recognize Darren’s voice despite not knowing him that well. He’s got one of those deep and dark timbres that I’d bet turns straight women feral.

Bryce replies, sounding angry now. “Want me to come? She’ll piss off quick after seeing me.”

“Yeah, with my daughter in tow.”

“Not if Abbie has a say. She loves me.”

“She could, if you’d let her.”

A scoff. “It’s a kid thing, Darren. I’ll be her favourite aunt once she’s a bit older and doesn’t smell like sparkles and cheap lip gloss.”

I barely manage to hide my laugh.

“Alright, Rye. But don’t get butthurt when she chooses Poppy over you. She loves her cheap lip gloss scent.”

“I love Abbie. Don’t be an asshole. I’m just . . . not the best with kids. Leave me alone about it.”

There’s a moment where I can’t hear either of them, and I manage to take two steps toward my room. I’m almost there when the front door opens, and Bryce calls out.

“Text me later.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I squeak and reach for my door seconds before the air shifts. It grows cooler, sharper. Pulling myself together, I smile and turn my head to look at Bryce.

“Hi.”

She stands at the end of the hall and watches me. Silent but with eyes that speak for her, she inspects me, brows low.

“Hi.”

“How was your day?”

Her mouth twists at the question, unease heavy in her eyes. For a moment, I wonder if she’s about to tell me something real and unrehearsed, but disappointment hits a beat later.

“Fucking fantastic.”

She goes to walk past me, but before she can, I reach out. My fingers glide across hers before I grasp onto them, risking having them bitten clean off. Her head snaps in my direction, mouth parted in surprise despite the tight coiling of her shoulders. For a long few seconds, neither one of us speaks. The warm fingers in mine are small and strong, flexing and growing damp.

“You look pissed off, Bryce,” I say softly, cautiously. “Not fantastic.”

She tugs her hand free of mine, leaving me clutching the empty space left behind. “Do you want to have a heart-to-heart or something?”

I recover by leaning my shoulder against the wall and tipping my chin. “I’m up for it.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You could.”