When the screen goes dark, the silence fills the room again. Only the distant birdsong answers back.
AslongasIstay locked in this room, I can pretend. Pretend I’m at some cheesy cowboy-themed resort. Pretend my father didn’t exile me from my life and friends to save his own reputation. Pretend I’m not sharing a roof with three complete strangers in the middle of nowhere.
But pretending is temporary.
While waiting for the water to heat, my gaze lingers on my reflection—the tired shell of the girl I used to be.
I’ve been showering twice a day to pass the time. It’s always been my favorite place to think, and now I have nothing but time to let my mind spiral.
The endless hot water is the only thing holding me together right now.
My fingers dip beneath the stream one last time, only to jerk back at the bite of the cold.
The water is frigid.
No. Please, not this too.
A hot shower was literally the only thing I had to look forward to. And now it’s gone.
I swallow the lump in my throat and tilt my head back, blinking at the ceiling.
Hot tears stream down my cheeks as sobs tear through me. I don’t even try to hold them in. I’m sure they all assumed I’ve been in here crying the whole time, anyway.
Why should I care what they think?
Once I finally get a hold of my emotions, I look into the mirror again. Red, puffy eyes stare back at me—I look exactly how I feel.
Fucking awful.
I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to see anyone.
Sucking in a deep breath, I reach for my toothbrush and toothpaste.
Going out there in my pajamas and a messy bun is one thing—but morning breath? That’s where I draw the line.
I walk into the dining room with my head held high, faking confidence with every step.
The sweet smell of maple syrup and a fresh pot of coffee envelopes my senses, and my stomach growls.
Heath sits at the head of the table, sipping from a dark teal mug with white speckles. He peers over the newspaper, lips pressed into a thin, disappointed line.
My stomach drops and my feet waiver slightly, but it’s all in my head. I’m fine. Heath isnotWarren.
“Ah, look who finally decided to join us,” Heath says gruffly, not even looking at me as he turns the page.
I roll my eyes and shake my head—not that he notices. “No. I actually came down to tell you the hot water isn’t working.”
Movement flickers at the edge of my vision. Emmett leans against the kitchen island, arms folded across his broad chest, mouth drawn in a tight line.
My gaze drops before I can stop it, shame and regret tightening my chest. My fingers twist the hem of my shirt.
“Is that so? Sit down and eat.” Heath chuckles, tilting his head toward the seat in front of me. “You haven’t come out of thatroom in days, and I promised your father I would take care of you.”
“Does providing access to hot water not fall under that promise?”
A low snicker drifts in from the kitchen.
My head snaps to shoot a glare at Emmett when instead my eyes meet Wesley’s. He’s taken Emmett’s place, leaning against the island and holding a coffee mug of his own.
