“You said no one has heard from her? Not even Sage?”

A head shake. “She’s heartbroken Remi abandoned her without saying goodbye, but she said Remi had been talking about leaving for a while, so … I guess she meant leaving everyone behind too.”

Her escape plan. Graduating early and never coming back. She hasn’t called or texted once since she left.

Suddenly not telling me her last name feels more important. A lot of shit suddenly looks a hell of a lot different. Like someone switched on the light.

“She hurt a lot of us, Foster…” Daniel keeps talking, but I stop listening.

I can’t with everything crashing over me at once. Realizations and truths. Him and her—not her and me. The lies and pretending and saying I’m not real. Maybe I was the only one not lying and who was never pretending. Maybe Remi Saint was the one who was never real—we were never real.

Chase was right. I was so fucking stupid, letting myself believe we were.

I’m unsure who to blame for the crack in my chest. For carelessly handing someone my heart to crush. Who played me harder. Who was a more beautiful liar all along. I’m unsure who’s betrayed me worse.

Remi Sinner or myself.

28

FOSTER

Now…

“I hate you.”

Colton slaps the cash into my hand and then serves the poor chick at the hotel’s reception desk one hell of a glare. I chuckle and stuff the five in my pocket.

“We can stop any time,” I remind him.

But he scans the lobby and then smacks me in the chest. “No fucking way. Put your shades on so you quit cheating.”

I slide them on, and we both wait for the chick crossing toward us, a bellhop following with her bags. Once she’s close enough, Colt coughs. She gives an annoyed glance at first, only to change her mind. She scans us both before smiling on her way by, attention staying on him.

“Fuck, yes.” He forgets her and holds out his palm, his smile smug.

“I never stood a chance against you.” I return the cash.

Neither of us would carry any if not for the bet. For a long time, we traded the same bill back and forth, almost like a marker. The scales tipped in my favor once people started recognizing me in public.

Or when I started cheating, according to Colt.

“You aren’t closing with her?” I ask.

He shrugs, his expression mimicking it. “Those who do not carry bags do so because of their baggage.”

“Preach.”

Christian winks at the other receptionist, tapping the cards on the counter before he spins. “Third floor is ours. Keycard access only for the elevator, which also goes down to the private gym, pool, movie theater, and whatever else she said.” He waves a hand toward the desk and then passes out keycards, rattling the room numbers as he goes.