Page 33 of Burning Daylight

Pain radiates through my sternum. “Feels like it.”

“Hold on,” he demands, and then he starts speaking again, only this time the sound is muffled, like he’s talking to someone else.

Sighing, I pick at the cardboard protector on my to-go coffee and glance around the shop. My heart pitches forward and my breath stalls when my gaze locks on a familiar stranger standing at the front of the line.

Holy shit.

“Jules.” Paxton’s voice is soft now, like he’s around people he doesn’t want to hear his conversation. “Listen, I’ve?—”

“Why are you whispering?” I interrupt.

“What?” he says a little louder. “I’m not.”

“Don’t gaslight me over your tone of voice, dude.”

He sighs like talking to me is the most frustrating thing on the planet. “I’m not gaslighting.”

“You’re being weird. Is it because of me or because of the wife you hate?”

I shouldn’t poke at him when he’s obviously already on edge, but would I really be a little sister if I didn’t?

“Don’t talk about Tiffany,” he says.

“Why not?” Anger spreads like a wildfire in my chest. “She’s my sister-in-law after all. I should be able to talk about her as much as I want.”

“We’ve got the jet ready to bring you home in two days.” His tone is flat.

“What?” My eyes widen and I pull my phone away from my ear and look at it like he can see how crazy I think he sounds, before bringing it back and hissing, “NowIdon’t even get to go to my graduation?”

“You’ll get your diploma in the mail. What do you need the ceremony for?”

“I can’t believe you’re saying that to me.”

“Me neither,” he mumbles.

I frown. “Fine, butyouhave to tell Felicity.”

He grunts. “I don’t have to tell that little brat anything. She has nothing to do with this family.”

“Thatbratwas a pseudo sister to you growing up, and you can pretend all you want that you don’t know her, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’ll come home and kick your ass for not letting me experience graduation with her.”

He’s silent, and I can practically picture the way his jaw is clenching. “Fine.”

My eyes narrow. “Who’s making you do this? Is it Mom? Tell her to call me herself.”

Unlikely.

“Of course it’s Mother,” Pax exhales sharply. “And of course it’s not a party for you, Jules. Be realistic. It’s a fundraiser. For Frank.”

I blink. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Are you happy now?”

“No, actually. I’m the opposite of happy. You’re honestly telling me that I have to miss my own graduation just so I can play dress-up as Mother’s political puppet?”

There’s a pause, followed by a softer version of his voice. “This is how it is, Jules. It’s how it’s always been. Can youpleasejust get on the plane? Come home.”

A hit of guilt laces up my spine like a corset. I hate how he always feels like the world is on his shoulders. “You sound tired, Pax.”