“Speaking of . . .” She rolled her eyes upward toward Chris’s apartment, a floor above us.

“No, he doesn’t know yet.”

“Nikki!”

“I’m about to tell him. Jeez. Leave me alone, Mom.” I was forever calling Blue Mom. She was tiny and young, but definitely a caretaker. She’d been there while my arm healed, through my post-yacht nightmares, and through all my major freak-outs as I sat for my exams. She even went to the library and checked out books to help me learn how to ignore my colors so studying went easier. I wasn’t sure if they always worked, but it felt good to have someone care enough to try.

“He wants to know.”

“I know.”

“He will be disappointed to find out from someone other than you.”

“I know.”

I started down the hallway to my tiny bedroom.

“You should tell him now, Nikki!”

“I know!” I shut the door and changed clothes, peeling off my “secretary clothes,” as Chris liked to call them, and pulling on leggings and a sweatshirt. I tossed my low heels into the back of my closet—God, I hated heels—and dug out my comfy Chucks. These shoes had been through so much. They’d walked the tile of Peyton’s hospital room. They’d been carelessly discarded by Dru’s bed. They’d stood on his blood. They’d been lost at the beach. They’d been to a swanky dinner in Vegas. They’d strolled with Jones and kicked Luna and chased Peter Fairchild. They’d walked into my new apartment to start a new life, away from the place where my mom died and my dad hid so many secrets.

Some days I thought it was time to get rid of the shoes. Most days, I thought I never would.

I stuffed my feet into a pair of socks and the Chucks and gathered my hair up into a ponytail. I checked the time on my phone, then texted Chris.

Workout?

Already there.

Nervous?

What would I have to be nervous about?

I’ll show you in a minute.

“He deserves to know, after everything. . . .”

“Oh my God, are you still talking?” I said. I grabbed my key to the new downstairs fitness room—really, just a treadmill, a heavy bag, and a sparring mat—that we’d talked the landlord into when we moved into Chris’s building, and walked past Blue, making yak-yak motions with my hands.

“I’m excited, okay?”

I looked at her with exaggerated wide eyes. “You don’t say.”

“Just go. Tell.”

“Okay, okay.”

CHRIS WAS ALREADY sweaty when I got there.

“Hey, neighbor,” I said. “Warming up? I don’t blame you. You need all the advantages you can get.”

“Or I need to wear myself out a little first, so I don’t accidentally hurt you.”