Despite the rough start, having him around has taken some pressure off. We have an extra set of eyes for potential shots and hands for the planned ones. Not to mention he knows how I work and easily slips into the assistant role or a leader one when I need it. He’s also been respectful of me and Foster, back to being my friend—where he started, and I need him to end.

Before I hit send, Foster’s phone lights up. I stretch for it, realizing I have no idea if the guy about a thing is saved in his contacts. If he is, I doubt it’s as A Guy About a Thing.

Sitting back, my brow dips at the name. It takes me a second to realize the numbers separated by a dash is yesterday’s date. Apparently vagueness is Foster’s favorite language.

Not sure what else to do, I swipe to answer.

I haven’t even brought the phone to my ear when I hear a shocked, “Holy shit.”

Then, “You never answer. I mean, I knew you were still part of the club since you’ve texted me anytime you get a new number, which is a lot, by the way, but seriously?”

The voice and cadence and rambling rips through me until a shocked numbness takes over. Or maybe a disbelieving one. Either way, I can’t move. Can’t speak.

But she barely takes a breath. She never did. “I call you every year on Remi Day, and the one time I worked a double and call a day late, you pick up?”

I swallow, my heart thrashing in my chest at my name even through the numbness. When it becomes undeniable who called Foster’s phone. Who knows Foster to even call him.

“Hellooo?” Sage says. “You⁠—”

The door swings open, and I end the call. I look up as Colton slows down, scanning me over. I’m breathing hard even though it feels like I’m not at all. Dizzy for a completely different reason than when Foster left.

“You good, lioness?” Colton asks, two lines between his brows.

After a few blinks, my eyes fall to the phone screen again. I try to swallow, but my mouth and throat are too dry.

“Remi.”

My attention jerks up, his expression even more concerned.

Then the sensations flood back in. The reality of what just happened crystallizes in my head. Whether it was shock or disbelief freezing me before, it morphs into something else now. Anger. Or maybe hurt? No, this time it’s very much both.

I grab my bag, pushing to my feet, and rush by Colton, not sure I could answer him if I tried.

“Hey,” he calls after me, but I’m already charging down the hall. “Hold the fuck on, Remi.” He catches my arm, but I wrench away.

“Let me go, Colt.”