Page 125 of ClickBack

“Atlanta.”

“Yes, I gathered that part.”

“I wanted a day where she didn’t have to take care of anything.”

“And did she enjoy it?”

“Yeah.” I look down at my plate. “We both did.”

Mom leaves me with the memory instead of asking the next question right away. I can still feel Giselle’s fingers hooked through mine outside the rink. I wanted the whole day again before we got on the plane home.

“She calls people honey,” I say. “Hon. Love. When she’s being soft with them.”

“People.”

“Not me.”

“You sound offended.”

“I’m waiting.”

Mom looks at me over the table, and I wish I had stopped talking about three sentences ago.

“You love her.”

I turn my fork in my hand. Giselle said it first, during the worst conversation we have had. I have been hearing it since. Not Do you? Not I love you. She said I loved her and still left her out.

“Yeah,” I say.

It feels different in my own voice. Less like something I can keep postponing until I find a good time.

Mom reaches across and touches my wrist. “Then what happened between you two?”

“I had people report the posts with her family’s information. Put out a request to leave her alone.”

“All right.”

“Called Cam. Tori. Had Graves watching for anything that looked like a threat.”

“And Giselle?”

“I sent a text later.”

Mom takes her hand back. “How much later?”

“Hours.”

She sits against the chair and waits. I hate how familiar that feels. I’m twenty-nine, and I still want a better answer when she looks at me that way.

“I thought I could get the worst of it down before she saw it.”

“Did you?”

“Some.”

“Did she see the rest?”

“Yes.”