Page 47

She studied me for a moment, then patted my cheek.

“You know, mi Tempestina, secrets are like seeds. Buried in the dark, they find a way to grow toward the light, no matter how deep you plant them.” Her eyes twinkled.

“Sometimes it’s better to plant them in the open, where you can control how they grow. ”

My stomach clenched. “But even if I can control how they grow, it doesn’t mean people won’t stomp on them, tell them they don’t belong, and make them feel small and ugly.”

She took my hand in hers and shifted her attention to Flynn who was now taking selfies with the donkey. “That boy cares for you deeply. Your Abuelo Leo looks at me just the same way your footballer does you.”

I followed her gaze, my heart aching with unexpected tenderness as Flynn looked up, catching me watching him.

“I care about him too,” I admitted.

“Then trust him,” Abuela said simply. “Trust someone besides your fabulously fantastic abuela with the truth of who you are.”

“I already did,” I whispered, and her eyebrows rose in surprise.

Before she could respond, Flynn jogged over, phone in hand. “I told you those sunglasses would look awesome on him. ”

For a few hours, surrounded by Abuela’s cooking, Tio Pedro’s stories while we ate, Flynn’s laughter, and Burrito stealing all of the tortillas, I almost believed that everything would be okay. Almost.

When I returned to the sorority house that evening, the door to my room was locked from the inside. I knocked softly, then harder when there was no response.

“Parker? You in there?”

The lock clicked and the door opened just enough for Parker’s purple-haired head to peek out. Her eyes widened when she saw me, then she yanked me inside, shutting and re-locking the door in one fluid motion.

“Thank god you’re back. I thought you weren’t going to be home until tomorrow,” she said, immediately returning to her desk where three different laptops were set up, screens glowing with code I couldn’t begin to understand. “I’ve been damage controlling all day.”

“What?” My heartbeat accelerated. “You have?”

Parker swiveled in her chair, dark circles under her eyes revealing she hadn’t slept much. “Someone posted that Miranda Milan lives in Colorado. Not your real name yet, but now the rumors are flying that she is a college student and they said there’s a sorority connection.”

My legs gave out and I sank onto my bed. I closed my eyes and imagined Flynn’s arms around me and Burrito’s fur beneath my fingers. When I could breathe again, I looked back at Parker. “How bad is it?”

“Could be worse,” Parker said, turning back to her screens. “The source was anonymous, posted on some entertainment blog. I’ve been running interference, planting misinformation, making comments disappear, and tracking the IP addresses that seem most interested in the story.”

I stared at her. “You can do that?”

She shot me an offended look. “Cybersecurity major, remember? This is literally what I’m trained to do, a whole-ass degree in keeping my roommate’s secret identity as a smut-writing superstar under wraps.

” Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “I’ve already planted red herrings suggesting Miranda Milan is actually at Boulder, Fort Collins, and even Durango. ”

A lump formed in my throat. “Parker, I?—”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she cut in. “I think the immediate fire is contained, but this is just the beginning. Someone knows, Tempest. Someone who was willing to talk.”

Was there really someone at FlixNChill that was this adamant that revealing my identity was going to make the show a bigger deal? This had to just be a publicity stunt on their end. Maybe I wouldn’t sign those contracts after all. Even if the deal was worth literally millions of dollars.

“And, I think you’ve got someone else on your side.

There’s a bunch of other accounts posting some crazy-ass shit that’s kind of believable.

Look.” She pointed to a FaceSpace group for romance readers.

“This Romance Reader Princess says she heard you’re not from Colorado but every other place on the planet that starts with C.

You’ve been Californian, Canadian, and even Cambodian today. ”

Huh. Okay, that was good, I guessed.

“And this person, Mint Milan, thinks you’re a whole group of literary fiction authors who were bored with their own genre and banded together to write and market the books.”

Well, that was a weird theory.

“Although my favorite popped up in the Kelsey Best fan group and said she’s the one writing your books and Penelope Quinn, better known as Bestie’s Bestie, is hilariously not denying it.”

Oh that was good. If the Besties joined the cause of thinking one of the world’s biggest pop stars authored my books, I might actually be okay. For a while.

“I haven’t dug deep enough to find out who they are, because I was too busy taking advantage of their rumor spreading skills.” She took a long swig from an energy drink can. “But you should prepare yourself. Secrets this big don’t stay buried forever.”

I hugged my arms around myself. “Who do you think leaked it?”

“No idea yet. But I’m working on it.” Parker’s expression softened. “How was LA otherwise? You and Flynn hung out? Do anything else besides negotiate multi-million dollar deals? Is he going to sign with the Bandits? Oh my god, are you going to move to LA with him?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I held up my hands, but a small smile broke through my panic. “I did hang out with him. He knows everything.”

“Told you,” Parker said smugly. “That boy is head over cleats for you. Wait. Everything? Like...”

“Everything.” I allowed myself one moment to revel in the happiness and joy and... love I’d experienced this week before the utter catastrophe .

“Oh hells yeah. Finally,” Parker said. “LA love story. Brilliant.”

I leaned forward to look at her screens. “Do you think we’re safe for now?”

“For tonight, at least,” she said, her expression turning serious again. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow might be a different story.”

But as I crawled into bed that night, my phone clutched in my hand, I had to swallow down the worry that despite Parker’s confidence, we were just delaying the inevitable.

The stares started the moment I stepped onto campus the first day after spring break. At first, I thought I was being paranoid. But three separate people in my lit crit class turned to look at me, then quickly back to their phones, whispering to each other.

Why couldn’t this be the day I had Shakespeare and marketing with Flynn?

“Tempest,” a voice called as I left class. I turned to find Bettie hurrying toward me, her expression grim. She grabbed my arm, pulling me into an empty classroom. “What the hell, Tempest?”

“What?” My heart hammered against my ribs.

She thrust her phone at me. The screen displayed The Dracarys, our campus news blog. The headline made my blood freeze:

STUDENT AUTHOR UNMASKED:

IS KAT SISTER TEMPEST NAVARRO ACTUALLY BEST-SELLING ROMANCE NOVELIST MIRANDA MILAN ?

The article laid out the evidence with damning precision.

They knew I’d gone to LA for spring break, which coincided with Miranda Milan’s known trip to LA.

It talked about how I was a lit major, and that my father was the long time DSU Shakespeare professor, which drew parallels to Shakespeare’s influence on Milan’s books.

But most damning, they said they had an insider source who’d seen me in meetings at the FlixNChill offices.

“Is it true?” Bettie asked, her eyes wide.

“I—” The denial died on my lips. I couldn’t lie to her face.

Bettie’s gasp confirmed what I already knew, my non-denial was confirmation enough. “Oh my god, it is true. Tempest, why didn’t you tell us? We’re your sisters, your friends, your donkey sitters, and boyfriend sneaker-inners.”

“I couldn’t tell anyone,” I said, my voice barely audible. “My family?—”

The classroom door burst open. Two students I barely recognized entered, phones already raised.

“OMG. You’re Tempest Navarro?” one called out. “Are you seriously Miranda Milan?”

Bettie stepped between us, pulling up the full force of her sorority president gravitas. “Not now,” she snapped. “Back off.”

But the damage was done. I could practically see the confirmation spreading across campus as I stood there, frozen in place. My secret, the one I’d guarded so carefully for years, was unraveling in real time.

“I have to go,” I whispered to Bettie. “I need to?—”

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Then again. And again. A glance at the screen showed a barrage of notifications, texts, calls, social media alerts. But the ones that made my stomach drop were from my family group chat.

Catalina: Tempest, why is there a reporter outside my boutique asking about my romance novelist sister?

Ophelia: Wait, what?

Freddie: OMG IS THIS REAL??

And then the one that sent ice through my veins:

Mamá: We need to discuss this. I’ll be calling tonight. Nonnegotiable.

I stumbled out of the classroom, barely registering Bettie calling after me. My carefully constructed world was collapsing around me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

By the time I reached the sorority house, Parker was waiting at the front door, her expression a mixture of panic and excitement.

“The house phone has been ringing nonstop,” she said, pulling me inside. “Three different local news outlets, the campus paper, and I think someone from a publishing news website. Shit is going down.”

“Everyone knows,” I said numbly. “Everyone.”

My phone buzzed again. Flynn.

Flynn: Are you okay? Tell me where you are, I’m coming to you .

I stared at his message, tears blurring my vision. Part of me desperately wanted him there, wanted his strength as I faced the storm. But another part, the part that had been keeping secrets for so long, wanted to hide, forever, from everyone.

Mamá: If you don’t respond, I’m calling the university.

I looked back at Flynn’s message, my thumb hovering over the screen. Did I want him to watch as everything I’d feared came true?

The phone trembled in my hand.

Mamá: I’m booking a flight. Your father and I will be home tomorrow.