The second Xander steps on the treadmill beside me, I’m out. I slap mine off and cross toward the fridge of waters. The same competitive look appears on Colt’s face as earlier, spotting new competition.

“Are you staying in Austin for Thanksgiving or going home?” Xander asks.

Our gazes catch for a second across the room as I open the glass door for a bottle, but I look away, unscrewing the lid.

“No, I’m staying here,” she says.

“What about Christmas?” He pants but not enough to shut him up. “My mom’s already bugging me about my plans. I told her it depends on if we’re doing like last year with your dad coming to our place.”

I almost choke on the water, jerking the bottle away and locking onto Remi.

Straight panic floods her eyes. No fucking clue what pours from mine when they meet, but nothing makes sense. “Your dad?”

The words aren’t even audible, but her face pales at them. She rips her head toward Xander. “I don’t know,” she rushes out. “I’ll see you later.”

Remi almost runs out of the room, avoiding looking at me as she pushes out the door. I blink after her for a moment, fight through the dissonance ricocheting through me. And then I’m setting down my water, already moving, doing what I said I’d never do again. I’m going after her.

“Remi,” I call once out the door. She ignores me, walking fast to the elevator, but I chase her down. “Remi.” I beat her to the button, planting myself between it and her. “What the fuck?”

“I…” Her head shakes, tiny, quick movements, while she stares up at me.

My focus lifts over her head toward the gym before I tug her by the hand through the doorway to the movie theater and around the corner. I let her go behind the back row of luxury chairs. The dim lighting’s enough to see her, chest rising and falling faster.

I walk to the wall, jaw clenching. My pulse races, mind a goddamn mess. She wraps her arms around her middle on my way back, and I duck in close to her.

“Your dad’s alive?” I ask, voice low but steeped in disbelief. “Why the fuck would you lie about that?”

“No.” She takes a half-step toward me but stops, brows knitting together. “I didn’t lie, Foster. I swear.”

“Then what, Remi? Because right now, I have no idea if anything you’ve ever said was true.”

“It was.”

“Make me believe it then. Tell me why Xander claims to have met your dad.”

Her hands fall to her sides, fists tight, gaze imploring me.

“Tell me,” I repeat.

She closes her eyes. “I can’t do this now. I’m sorry.”