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The door behind me jiggled, shaking on its hinges.
“G.I. Jerk, are you okay? I saw you running.”
Of course, it was her.
I couldn’t catch a break.
Another rattle. “Hey, is this thing jammed?”
“Go away,” I growled.
But she didn’t.
She wouldn’t.
She never followed instructions.
“What the…?” Her voice came from behind me, but I was too deep inside my trance to figure out how she’d managed to get inside despite the broken doorknob. “Jesus.Zach.”
The water shut off.
I still had my eyes screwed shut, my jaw rock-hard to prevent the bile lodged in my throat from projecting all over the marble.
It scorched my larynx with its sourness.
“Holy shit, dude. Your skin is pink.”
Farrow.
She was here. Inside. Right beside me.
My eyes shot open.
She came into focus like a restored painting, familiar yet new. Blue eyes flared. Full mouth opened.
Why did her stained maid uniform look more delectable than a Burberry dress suit?
Seriously. When did Farrow Ballantine start to look so breathtakingly beautiful to me?
Even now, with her hair tied up in a messy bun and her crooked wavy bangs glued to her forehead with sweat.
“How did you get here?” I snarled, shaking away these useless thoughts. “The doorknob shattered.”
“The outer lock is still intact.” She raised a bobby pin between us before tossing it into the sink. I recognized the moment she processed my current state of duress. She slapped a hand over her mouth, pupils running wild in their sockets. “What the fuck, Zach? Look at you.”
Farrow surveyed our surroundings, grabbed a decorative vase, and used it to guide me away from the sink, herding me like a shepherd.
She knows I don’t do touching.
She figured it out.
The idea that she knew my darkest, most depraved secret—and respected it—made my stomach twist into thick knots.
It was so typical of life to thrust me into such a cruel situation—just to teach me an even crueler lesson.
Salvation came from the most unexpected places. Sometimes it came from religion. Sometimes it came from forgiveness.And sometimes it came from the girl you finally realized you didn’t actually hate.
Farrow backed me all the way into the opposite wall of the bathroom. “Your skin is raw. It’s gonna blister. You have, like, third-degree burns. It’s all gonna come off if we don’t treat you.”
