I nodded. That was only fair. “But not yet. It’s not a good time.” And I have no idea what I’m going to say…

Someone knocked on my door, and we both jumped, then flushed. “Faythe?”

Dr. Carver.

My door opened before I could respond and he slipped inside, then closed the door at his back. We both leaped to our feet and the doc took us in with a sad, cautious look. But he didn’t seem surprised in the least. “Your dad’s looking for you. Both of you.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. Carver had caught me and Jace in the guesthouse the day Ethan died, and he’d promised to keep our secret, on the condition that I figure out what I was doing. Unfortunately, I hadn’t made much progress in that regard.

“Does he…?” I couldn’t finish my question.

“No. I told him I’d get you, but I didn’t know Jace was in here until I got to the door and heard you both.”

Good thing we were whispering…

“Thank—” I started, but he cut me off with a look that was part anger—probably over being put in such a position—and part aching sympathy.

Carver strode closer, and his voice dropped almost beyond my range of hearing. “If you’re not ready to tell people about this yet, then you better learn to stay the hell away from each other, because if anyone else had passed by this door with an ear to listen, you’d be having an entirely different conversation right now. And that doesn’t seem fair to either Marc or your father, considering everything else that’s going on.”

Jace bristled under the verbal censure, and I felt him go stiff at my side. I laid a warning hand on his arm and heard his pulse slow as he made himself relax.

Surprise flickered behind the doctor’s eyes as he took in both the gesture and the response, but I spoke before he could ask questions or make assumptions. “It just happened. But it won’t happen again. Right?” I glanced up at Jace, and he nodded stiffly. “Go out with the doc, please.” Because the two of them seen leaving my room together would raise much less suspicion than Jace leaving alone. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” After I washed my face and brushed my teeth, to keep Marc from smelling my indiscretion. At least until I was ready to tell him.

Jace blinked at me, pain shining in his eyes like tears. He wanted to touch me, or say something private, but wouldn’t in front of Carver. I could almost taste his frustration; it mirrored my own. Then he turned abruptly and followed the doctor out of my room.

Hot water poured over my head and down my back, washing away Jace’s scent and my sweat, and blending with the tears I could no longer hold back. I cried quietly, hoping the running water would hide the evidence of my weakness from the house full of cats, most of whom needed to see me as Jace had described me. Strong. Determined. Someone who knew how to harness pain, and anger, and heartache, and use them to her advantage. To hone her leadership skills, sharpen her wits and senses, and fuel her drive for justice.