was racing. I had rehearsed this lie in my head a hundred

out smoothly. "They travel constantly. Mostly in th

. This lie made them distant, unavailable, and most importantly, it made me

Archaeologists? Like India

pression. "Something like that.

He was analyzing every micro-expression, every breath I took.

his tone deceptively casual. "Whil

was in high school. She passed away a few years ago.

d painful. I pushed it down, burying the emotion before it could show on

my hand, her eyes full of sympathy. "That

ng my hand back gently but

hem a tragic backstory, one that should make them pity me and leave me al

ue eyes intense. Then, his expression shifted. The hard lines of his f

interrogating and more... direct. "But you're my sister's roommate, l

right. This wasn't

d, his gaze locking onto mine. "You can consider this a guarantee: if you have a p

ead, I had triggered his savior complex. In the novel, Dean Gibbs was a fixer. He saw a

my voice stiff. "But I can tak

room for argument. "And I'm sure you can. But e

at her brother was being so welcomi

e. I had played myself. I had tried to build a w

chatter. I kept my answers short and my eyes down, trying to project an aura of com

ng at the total. He stood up, helping Hannah with

pavement as she answered a call from a friend. Dean slowed his pace, falling into step

oncrete walls. Dean stopped walking. I stopped too, turning to face him. H

ry, Miss Carrillo," he said, hi

ung in the air, a clear threat. Did

unreadable, half-hidden in shadow. He could be complimenting my

ickened my pace to catch up with Hannah. I didn't look back, but I