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She reached for Coralyn, both hands extended, but Coralyn
stepped back, distressed. She held up the car keys between
them like a shield. “I just came to return the car, Giana. Mine
is fine. Really. I want to go home. To my apartment.”
It stung that she didn’t think of this house as her home. Why
would she, though? The place looked like a museum. It was
hardly warm or homey.
“Okay,” Giana whispered. “Do you—no, of course you
don’t want something to eat, but will you eat anyway? And
have a shower? I can get you a fresh change of clothes before
you go.”
Coralyn looked so angry. She walled herself off, shutting
Giana out. It felt like the roof of the house was crumbling and
was about to crush both of them. Giana reached far back into
the blackness that had appeared in her brain when she’d hit her
head, but she found nothing, as she always did. That black was
the night, so thick and uncertain and impassable. It wasn’t just
a curtain that could be brushed away to regain her former life
and everything that went with it.
Frustration clawed at Giana’s chest again, but she forced
herself to stay calm. To suck in another breath that was
supposed to be deep, but her lungs had other plans and turned
it into a wheeze.
“No. I don’t think so. I need to tell you something.” The
worst. That’s the only way Giana could describe Coralyn’s
expression. It was from bad, to worse, to just the worst.
“Okay. Do you want to sit down?”
Coralyn bit down on her bottom lip. It made something in
Giana want to kiss Coralyn, hard. To work that sweet, puffy lip
between her own teeth. To elicit moans and whimpers of pain
