Page 101 of Bitter Truths

Tonight feels both too far away and too soon.

Focus. Winston first.

I push through the door to his room and stop dead.

Winston’s sitting up in bed, eyes clear and focused, talking quietly with Clara. But the moment I step inside, his head snaps toward me, and his nostrils flare.

Shit.

“There’s my long-lost sister,” he says, eyes narrowing as he tilts his head, studying me more carefully than I anticipated.

Clara beams at me. “Look who’s awake and talking. The doctors say he’s making incredible progress.”

I move closer to his bed, trying to act normal. “How are you feeling, Winnie?”

“Like I got hit by a truck.” He’s studying me… like a doctor might. “But my head’s clearing up.”

“You scared us, asshole.”

“Sorry.” He laughs softly, then winces from the pain it causes, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. “You smell like...”

My heart skips. “Like what?”

“Like...” He pauses, nostrils flaring again as he processes. “Like them. But not just passing contact. You’ve been around them. A lot.”

Fuck. I forgot how sharp his senses are when he’s not unconscious.

Clara’s eyebrows shoot up, her eyes bouncing between us.

Winston’s gaze shifts to Clara. “Can you give us a few minutes, babe?”

Clara nods, squeezing his hand before standing. “I’ll grab coffee. Be right back.” She slips out, closing the door softly behind her.

Winston waits until her footsteps fade before turning back to me. “How much time have you been spending with them, B?”

I fidget as I try to decide how much of the truth to share.

“More than I should considering,” I admit.

“Why?” His voice is gentle, but I can see the protective instincts kicking in. “Last I knew, we couldn’t even mention them without you falling apart.”

“Things changed.”

“What kind of things?”

I take a breath. “What I thought happened… I was wrong.”

Winston goes still.

“What do you mean?”

“They were drugged, Winston. The bond was forced.”

The silence stretches between us. Clara’s hand rises to her throat, but Winston... Winston doesn’t look shocked. He looks exhausted.

“Fuck,” he breathes, running a hand over his face. “They wouldn’t talk about it. But the way they acted afterward... I could never wrap my head around any of it. I assumed it was some shit to do with their dads.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you suspected…” The question comes out sharper than I intended.