Page 79 of The CEO Alpha’s Substitute Mate

A muffled sob escapes me, and I disguise it as a cough.

“I know.” Her voice is heavy. “Look, I’ll swing by after work.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“I know you,” my friend says quietly. “I know how important dance is to you. To keep losing it like this is not easy. And I’m not letting you go through this alone.”

My throat closes over, so I put my forearm across my eyes. I don’t want to break down here. I don’t want her to hear it.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve bounced back from worse, right?”

“You have, but who says you have to bounce back alone? I’ll come by after work.”

She hangs up first, which she never does.

I lie there with the phone on my chest for a while, then I turn my head toward the end of the bed. Luca, who had been curled up beside me, is now watching. I don’t want him to see me like this. “Luca, go get something to eat for yourself.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Luca.”

He looks at me with his father’s eyes set in Maya’s face and doesn’t move an inch. My own eyes are filling, and I only have a few seconds before he sees it. One of the maids comes in with the water jug, looks at me once, and sets it down. She puts her hand out to Luca and tells him there’s a tray of pastries downstairs with nobody guarding it. He goes with her reluctantly. At the door, she looks back at me and pulls it shut without saying anything at all, and I let out a sigh of relief.

The second the latch clicks, I put both hands over my face, letting the tears spill. Sometimes it’s hard to hold it together, knowing how helpless I am in this situation. Years of hard work and dedication, and all I have left to show for it is a mangled leg and no job.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, whispering, “I’ve gone through worse. It’ll be fine. Things work out.”

Six years ago, I said it in a hospital corridor. Two years ago, I said it in a bathroom with an eviction notice folded in my back pocket. Both times I had a plan, even if it was a bad one that only got me as far as the next week. I look for a plan now, and there isn’t one.

The door opens without a knock. There’s only one person in this house who does that, and he doesn’t wait to be invited in.

“What’s wrong?” Callum’s voice is steady, and I hate that his mere presence is like a balm on my wounded soul.

“No, it’s nothing.” I wipe my face.

Callum doesn’t argue. He comes to the end of the bed and stands there without saying another word. He doesn’t touch me, doesn’t attempt to comfort me or coax me. He just watches me, his hands in his pockets.

“I got fired,” I mumble.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see.” He reaches for his phone, and after dialing a number, he says into it, “Get me a lawyer.”

“Stop it.” I push myself up on my palms. “What are you doing?”

“Suing the company for firing you,” he says calmly.

“You can’t do that.”

“I can do anything,” he reminds me.

The phone is still at his ear.

“Stop.” I grab the edge of his shirt. “Look at my leg. I can’t dance anymore.”

He lowers the phone. Then he looks down my thigh, over the stitches, over the yellow, closing his hand until the case creaks.