Our Dirty Little Secret
I spun back into the darkness, cursing viciously under my breath.
Forcing myself to turn away, I took the long route around the gardens back toward the bonfire. I spotted Dallas, standing alone near a cluster of lanterns, her phone pressed to her ear, dialing with trembling fingers.
“Dallas,” I called.
She stopped, spinning toward me, eyes wide with that mix of relief and lingering fear that always gutted me. Her phone slipped slightly in her grip.
“Have you seen Ryan?” she asked, voice tight with frustration and something deeper, doubt maybe, or the slow unraveling of trust.
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