“What’s on your mom’s menu tomorrow?” I ask her.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. It’s off. My Aunt Anita is in the hospital in Phoenix and my parents are there with her.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. What’s going on with her?”
“The doctors think she has a bacterial infection. She’s really sick. I’m not sure how long my parents are going to stay with her, but I’d imagine until my aunt is better.”
We both screw the lids back on our water bottles, preparing to resume the hike.
“Should we send flowers?” I ask Ro.
“That’s a great idea, Gia! Yeah, I’ll do that.”
“I’ll pay for them. Just let me know how much.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
I shrug. “I can afford it. You work a lot harder for your money than I do, and you need to keep working on your rainy-day fund.”
“Ha! It’s up to $104,” Ro says, sighing. “I can afford a very light five-minute mist.”
“You know where you’re going. Getting yourself through college and dancing at the same time is hard work. You’ll get there.”
She’s walking at a slower pace now, beside me rather than her usual ten feet ahead.
“Thanks,” she says, hesitating before quietly asking, “What about you, Gia? Where are you going?”
“Hopefully back to the car,” I quip.
“I’m serious. What’s your plan for your future?”
I keep my expression neutral, knowing I can’t tell her what my plan is, because she’d tell me I’m crazy.
“I’m just living for the moment,” I say instead. “Seeing how far I can get in poker.”
“You make a lot of money, don’t you?”
“What’s a lot to one isn’t much to another,” I say with a shrug.
She turns her face to look at me, her brow lined with concern. “I worry about you walking around with lots of money at night.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m not going to get myself killed over a few grand.”
“What about this hockey player?” she asks. “Are you going to go out with him?”
An image of Maverick flickers into my mind. His dark wavy hair. That playful smile. His tall, powerful body. I’d love to find out what those muscles feel like beneath my fingertips, and discover what makes him go crazy in bed. But I wouldn’t be able to do that and stay focused on why I came to Vegas to start with.
“No. I told him that we can be friends, though.”
Ro’s quiet, and I can tell she’s thinking something but not saying it.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I guess sometimes…I wonder if you have someone you confide in. All of it. Because you’re guarded with me. And that’s okay. I don’t expect you to tell me everything. I just hope you have someone you can share your secrets with.”
Her words hit me hard. I’ve let my guard down around Ro a lot over the months we’ve lived together, but she’s right—I don’t tell her everything. I don’t tell anyone everything.
Never give anyone the power to hurt you, Gigi.
My father loved me fiercely, and he wanted me to learn from his mistakes. His lessons on poker often applied to life, too.
Trust your head, not your heart.
Play it safe.
Better to walk away too soon than too late.
“I’m good,” I tell Ro, even though I’m really not.
“You can always talk to me, okay?” she says, her brows lowering as a serious expression crosses her face.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
She smiles. “And if you don’t talk to me, and something happens, and you decide to talk to me after all, I won’t judge you for not talking to me sooner. I’m here when you need me.”
There’s a catch in my throat as I say, “Thank you.”
My dad was my go-to person. He had my back no matter what. And when he died, I was so angry and bitter that I closed myself off to the world. Plotting. Planning. And now, executing.
I knew the path I was choosing was a lonely one. But I never counted on the pang of regret I feel right now. I wish I could tell Ro everything. What really happened to my dad. Why I’m in Vegas. The plan I hope to set in motion soon.
Instead, I wipe the sweat from my brow, take a deep breath and follow her up a path lined with big red rocks, staying silent.
Chapter Eleven
Maverick
“You might need to throw that pancake a life preserver,” I say, grinning as Gia douses her blueberry pancakes with a third cup of syrup.
“I don’t want to have to stop and add more syrup later. There’s nothing worse than getting a dry bite of pancake and realizing you need more syrup.”
“The horror.”
She sets the little metal cup down and cocks a brow at me. “You’re awfully full of sass and energy for four in the morning. Did you sleep at all before coming to the casino?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I was too excited about our first date.”