Page 75 of Torin

I leave him to murder the firewood and sit down on the edge of the bed.

The mattress is softer than the one at Bennett’s. The sheets smell of washing powder and sunshine.

I lie back.

Just for a minute.

A soft knock wakes me.

I open my eyes and stare at an unfamiliar ceiling.

“Hannah?”

Torin.

I push myself upright. “Yeah?”

“I made some food. You hungry?”

“Always.”

“Come eat, then.”

I hear his footsteps retreat down the hallway.

The sunlight has shifted across the floor. I check the time and blink.

I’ve been asleep for nearly two hours.

I drag myself out of bed, use the bathroom across the hall and splash cold water over my face. My hair is flattened on one side from the pillow. I try to fix it with my fingers, give up, and leave it.

By the time I reach the kitchen, I can smell bacon and fresh coffee.

Orson is standing beside the table.

Three places are set.

He puts a mug beside the empty plate.

I stop.

His eyebrows draw together. “Something wrong?”

“Nope.” I shake my head and sit down. He pours coffee into my mug.

Torin sets a plate in front of me. Eggs, bacon, toast. Enough food for two people.

I look up at him. “Are you expecting me to finish all this?”

“Do what you can.”

He sits beside me with his own plate. I take a bite of bacon and realize how hungry I am.

Across the table, Orson studies me over the rim of his mug.

“So,” he says at last.

I look up.