A knot cinches tight in my chest, pressure rising quick and mean. My throat closes, breath stuttering as heat stings behind my eyes.
Pathetic.
He…thinks it’s pathetic.
My vision wavers as my fingers clutch helplessly at my fanny pack, my pulse tripping over itself in a rhythm that has nothing to do with excitement.
Ducky asks if he’ll cuddle it, and hope flares in me when Tomcat says yeah, but then he finishes his sentence, and something inside me just...sinks.
A strange, glacial rush floods my veins, cold stretching awake and prowling through my bloodstream. My skin sparks, my chest cinches tight, and the room wobbles, slipping just out of reach.
The voices around me smear together, muffled and warped, while my gaze clings helplessly to Tomcat.
I was so sure he’d love his special gift. So sure.
Where did I go wrong?
Heat scorches behind my eyes, pressure spiking fiercely. Tears pool along my lashes, vision quivering as I bow my head and blink them back.
No, not a chance. Not today. Absolutely not. Won’t let it happen. If I cry, he’ll know. He can’t know. Not now. Not when he thinks I’m pathetic.
Anger writhes deep inside me, a wild, furious creature battering uselessly against the thick ice trapping my body. It’s muffled, smothered, swallowed by the cold. Not strong enough. Not yet.
Across the room, the mood snaps. Laughter snuffs out, and bodies coil tight as Cypher whips out his laptop, fingers flying to the surveillance feed. Concern pulses through the brothers like a single, startled animal.
I should be worried. Maybe I ought to be. But sneaking around here is practically my sport by now. I’ve danced this dance a hundred times. Watching. Learning. Loving my Tomcat.
That’s right.
Mine.
The ice inside me starts to melt as clarity dawns, bringing cautious relief. He wasn’t cruel. He was just saving face. That’sall. He has a reputation to protect. A persona. A mask, like everyone else here.
Deep down, I know he likes it.
He does.
Then he lets the note fall to the table, careless as if it’s worthless. The sound is barely a whisper, but inside my chest, hope evaporates, and something desperate screams.
“It’s just some obsessed chick,” he says dismissively.
The words spear clean through me.
Just some obsessed chick.
Obsessed chick.
Huh.
Well.
It appears loving someone to an unhealthy degree does, in fact, come with occupational hazards.
Broken heart included.
I didn’t even need him to love me back for that to happen.
Boo.