I’m not, though. Despite what Daniel said, what Sage confirmed, Remi Saint would never hurt me this way.

But Remi Sinner…

A tightness creeps into my throat, and I tongue at my cheek, swiping Remi’s phone as I stand. “Thanks for meeting me.”

I swerve around people on my way out, needing air. Needing answers. Or maybe I’m just desperate for better ones. Ones which don’t scrape. She’s not supposed to scrape.

Pushing out the door, I head across the street toward the square. Going where, I don’t even know, but I want distance from everything right now. I want to go lie on a park bench and call the only person in this world who feels like they were made for me. Who the universe lined up with my broken pieces. Unless it never did, and she used them to cut me instead.

My phone starts up again, and I ignore Chase without looking. As I step onto the curb, I hear my name.

I glance over my shoulder, and Sage has her arms crossed over her chest, her long sweater pulled tight around her as she rushes after me in the cold breeze.

“Wait,” she says.

I turn the rest of the way around, and she sighs and comes to a stop in front of me, chewing on her lower lip. Her long ebony hair blows over her face, and she brushes it away.

“She talked about you.”

My gaze falls to the sidewalk. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.

“She never gave me the juicy shit, but she admitted to having a Foster. Foster the wandering boy.”

I shake my head. “Why are you telling me this?”

She shrugs with one shoulder. “Because I want to be wrong, and maybe you want to wander a little more.” She pulls out her phone, thumbs moving. “Roman mentioned a lake house up north a couple times—he’d go there some weekends. I don’t know the exact address, but I remember a few things.”

A text comes through, and I check what she sent. The lake’s name and details to help find the house. A huge tree in the side yard and a porch swing.

“It might be a long shot. I planned on checking once the idea of her abandoning me doesn’t hurt as much.” She blinks away tears and tips her chin a little higher to deny them.

“I’m sorry she left you,” I tell her.

Sage nods and forces a sad smile. “I’m sorry she left you, too. Let me know if you find her? We can start a support group or something.”

She has a begging in her eyes that I feel in my bones as I back away from her. I spin, heading to my car while another round of messages I won’t read floods my phone.

* * *