A beat of silence passed between us, full of grief and resentment, but understanding, too.
“Have you told Fox?” Ash asked, breaking the silence.
I shook my head. “He’s texted, but I turned my phone off.”
Ash frowned. “Why?”
“I can’t talk to anyone right now,” I said. “Not even him. I needed space.”
Ash nodded. “Does he even know you’re here?”
“No.” I leaned back into the couch, blinking back tears. “I don’t even know why I came here. I guess I…wanted you to know.”
“I’m glad you did,” he said simply, reaching over and giving my knee a gentle squeeze. He gave me a small, thankful smile. “I’ve missed you, Skye. I’m really glad we’ve gotten this time to reconnect.”
My gaze fixed on his hand. I was glad, too. When I looked up into my brother’s face, I managed to return the smile.
Our brief moment of connection was disrupted by the sound of a phone vibrating. Ash’s face fell. He pulled back and reached for his phone in his pocket.
He glanced at the screen, grimacing.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, standing from the couch. “I need to take this. Make yourself comfortable.”
He turned and disappeared into the kitchen, speaking low as he answered the call.
I stayed on the couch for a few seconds longer, picking at my cuticles. The pain had settled into something duller now. Heavier. Less like a jagged scream and more like a quiet, steady bleed.
I glanced around the living room—Ash had made it into a home. A real one. The kind we never had growing up.
I fidgeted in my seat, glancing over toward the kitchen. I couldn’t hear a thing from Ash if he was still in there.
The silence started to press in. I stood, needing to move. My feet padded across the laminate floor. I wandered toward the hallway where the bedrooms were, almost without thinking. It was darker down there—narrow and windowless, like when we were kids. The shadows clung to the corners.
I hesitated at the threshold, staring down the hall.
My father’s old room was at the very end, the door shut tight. A chill slid down my spine just looking at it.
Closer to me, my eyes landed on another door. One I knew well. My old bedroom.
I’d stood in that room as a child with scraped knees and bruises on my arms. I’d curled up under the covers and wished myself away more times than I could count.
But I’d also laughed in that room. I’d dreamed there. I’d fallen in love with Fox Ramsey for the first time right in that room.
I thought of the night he’d climbed through my window when I was too sick to sneak out. He hadn’t said a word, simply laid beside me and held my hand. He stayed all the way until morning.
I took a small step forward.
What had Ash done with it? Maybe it was an office now, or a storage room.
I glanced behind me. Still no sound from the kitchen. What was taking him so long?
My gaze returned to the door, and I noticed it was cracked open.
A strange feeling stirred in my chest. A flicker of…dread, perhaps. Or maybe curiosity.
I moved before thinking better of it, my fingers brushing the edge of the door as I leaned closer. There was something inside, something on the far wall. I squinted.
It was a picture.
