I tiptoe across the room and quietly shut the door, turning the lock. Guilt nips at me, butcome on. He had to know I had zero intention of joining them for an intimate family dinner.
Tossing the quilt back onto the bed, I head to the bathroom and turn on the shower, sticking my fingers under the spray until the water runs hot.
A hot shower won’t change anything, but it might help.
Once my skin is sufficiently pruned and scalded, I finally step out of the steamy bathroom. The hot water never ran out, a small but pleasant surprise. At one point, I thought I heard a knock on my door, but maybe I imagined it. Maybe it was Emmett.
Did he seriously think winking and offering tobite mewas going to convince me to join family dinner? Insanity.
I throw on pajamas—an old baggy T-shirt and workout shorts—and crawl into bed, wrapping myself up in the soft quilt again and falling asleep almost instantly.
The soft patter of footsteps pacing in the hallway pulls me from my slumber. When they stop right outside the door, I sit up, still groggy and dazed, and try to rub the blur from my eyes.
A shadow stretches beneath the door and my eyes flick to the nightstand, where the clock glows: 12:04 a.m. I blink and rub my eyes again, but the numbers don’t change.
Who the hell is standing outside my door in the middle of the night?
Whoever it is, if they wanted to talk to me, they’d knock instead of hovering outside like a stalker.
I double-checked the lock after my shower. So either they don’t have a key, or they don’t know I locked it. But it still doesn’t answer the question of what they’re doing and why they haven’t knocked.
A chill runs through me as my bare toes brush against the cold floorboards, legs dangling off the mattress.
Slowly, I tiptoe toward the door. My hand trembles as it hovers over the glass knob, and my heartbeat thuds in my chest. But just as I’m about to twist it, a soft sigh drifts from the other side of the door—then the footsteps retreat down the hall, punctuated with the faintclickof a closing door.
Releasing the breath I was holding, my shoulders drop and my hand falls to my side. Part of me wishes I knew whose room that was—but maybe it’s better I don’t.
Crawling back into bed, I tuck myself under the covers. Sleep doesn’t come as easily this time. I toss and turn endlessly before finally drifting off, dreaming of a field of wildflowers—and a faceless man.
CHAPTER THREE
SADIE
It’sTuesday.
I haven’t left my room in forty-eight hours. Tuesdays usually mean brunch with Mia and Tori, followed by an afternoon floating in Mia’s infinity pool. But not this Tuesday.
My morning begins the same as yesterday and the day before—staring blankly at the ceiling until my bladder wins and I finally drag myself to the bathroom.
The only time I even considered unlocking the door was when the savory and delectable scent of breakfast wafted into my room, making my mouth water and my stomach growl.
I’m aware I will have to leave this room eventually. But I’m not ready to face them all again.
Scrolling through my feed, my thumb hovers on a photo of Mia being fed a slice of fruit by Tori—both of them laughing, sunlight glinting off their skin, the city skyline blurred behind them.
I should be there.
Instead, I’m lying on a bed that isn’t mine, in a complete stranger’s house that smells like cedar and fresh coffee, trying my best to ignore how seemingly normal everything is here.
Nobody’s responded to my last text, so I stare at the photo for a while before tapping the little video icon, half-hoping they won’t answer.
The screen lights up with Mia’s face first—messy bun, dewy skin, an effortless glow that somehow never fades.
“Sadie!” She beams. “Oh my God, we werejusttalking about you.”
“Were you?” I ask, trying to smile.
“Obviously,” she says. “We miss you. It’s so weird without you here.”
