I enter the alarm code and pull open the door, ready to apologize for torpedoing her perfectly good night. Except it’s not Peak; it’s Frankie, which is . . . weird.

“Took you long enough. Now invite me in,” he says, holding up a pizza box.

“I’m gonna just grab a shirt,” I say slowly, pointing upstairs. “What are you doing here?”

“JuJu was freaking out about everything that happened tonight. I sent her home and told her I’d check up on you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a babysitter, so.” But my traitor stomach growls at the smell of food.

“Get your shirt,” Frankie says, pushing past me. “Your kitchen this way?” He walks off, not even waiting for me to reply.

I make my way back downstairs a few minutes later, my damp skin sticking to the hoodie I found under my bed. He’s already sitting at the table, the pizza box open in front of him. He’s not even using a plate, but he did seem to find the good linen napkins. “Eat,” he says, without looking up.

I grab a slice and sit down. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Actually, I did,” he says, pausing his chewing long enough to look at me. “For one, I would never hear the end of it if I didn’t, and for two, I wanted an excuse to eat another pizza. It’s more for my benefit than yours.”

“Thanks.”

“Listen. JuJu’s really worried about you, you know. If you need someone to talk to, I’m all ears.”

I take another bite of pizza, considering the offer. It has been a while since I dumped my shit on a stranger, and that was my primary coping method before meeting Peak, so.

“You’ll just tell her whatever I say.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Maybe not. Depends on what it is and if I think it’s her business.”

“How do you decide if it’s her business or not?”

“I’ll know when you say it.”

And yeah, I probably shouldn’t tell him anything, but once I open my mouth, I can’t stop. Peak has helped me so much, but one person can’t carry it all. Not all the time.

So yeah, I tell him everything. I tell him how Peak and I met at the con. I tell him why I’m really in town. He stops me there and asks a lot of questions. I don’t miss the way his hands curl into fists when I talk about my dad’s plan for Verona Comics. And then I tell him how I want to come clean, even though she doesn’t, because how much of a fresh start can I really get when I still have to report to my father every Tuesday and Thursday, just like the rest of his spies do, even if I am feeding him useless info.