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I shake my head. “I was an idiot. It wasn’t what I thought it was.”

“I know. I’ve seen Dr. Chastain and Nora go in a bunch of times.” She glanced up at me. “I don’t sleep well. I go for night walks sometimes. Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” I say before I can even process the secret. The impulse to use it as a weapon is nowhere to be felt.

She shrugs. “So, anyway, I guess I just wanted to, you know, talk to you.”

I sit down, leaving a foot or so of space between us, and squint at the labyrinth. “Is that Kinsey?” I ask in stupefaction.

Tiffany snorts. “She’s been doing it for an hour. Walking in and out, in and out. Maybe she thinks it’s a magic portal back to Teacup.”

I bite my lips on a laugh. Tiffany studies me from red-rimmed hazel eyes, her lips teasing up at the corners.

“So everyone thinks you and Dr. C. have a thing.”

My ears ring and I tense. “We don’t. Not even a little bit.”

“Why’d you jump into the pool?”

“Because I could. What is this, twenty questions?”

Tiffany pushes a few stray hairs from her forehead, her eyes steady on mine. Searching. Hoping. “Mia? Will you tell me the truth?”

I look away. “About what?”

“For starters, the pool.”

This conversation is going downhill fast without brakes. I can feel the cliff coming. The jumping off point.

Do I trust Tiffany? Hell with a capital No.

But does it matter?

“He scares me. So I wanted to scare him back.”

I don’t filter the words. Don’t think about them. I just let them free from the lockbox of my head.

“Dr. C.? Why?”

She sounds truly surprised. And I suppose she would be—everyone loves Chastain, after all. He’s a goddamn wizard.

I feel the muscles in my neck and back quivering with tension, and I know I’m not capable of sharing more. Not with Tiffany. Not with Chastain.

Barely with myself.

He sees me.

Rather than give a bullshit answer, I say, “I can’t tell you right now.”

Tiffany puts a small, delicate hand on my knee. “It’s okay, I understand.”

Beating back a reflex to hurt her takes so much effort I feel lightheaded. “Thanks,” I choke out. “Can we, uh, pick this up later?”

Tiffany nods, all sympathy and camaraderie. Like I give a shit.

Do I give a shit?

“I need some coffee,” I tell her as I stand, “then I have to take a lashing from Chastain for not showing this morning.”