“God,” she mutters. “You’reunbelievable.”
She turns on her heel and storms into the living room. But I follow. Because I have to.
“Please talk to me.”
She whirls around, eyes flashing. “Why? So you can come up with another lie? Another excuse to tell my brother while you play perfect little houseguest in his bed?”
My heart drops. “That’s not fair?—”
“No,” she snaps, her hand slicing the air. “What’s not fair is watching you cozy up to him like you belong here. Like you didn’t come out here with an agenda.”
“I didn’t,” I blurt. “Phern, I swear to you?—”
She steps closer, voice low and shaking. “Then explain why some guy named Kurt was on our goddamn property yesterday.”
I blink, stunned. “What?”
She laughs bitterly. “Yeah. Your co-worker. He showed up while you and Sam were otherwise engaged. Said the station’s just waiting for your word to run the story.” Her voice sharpens to a blade. “Is that why Sam texted me, all sweet, asking if I’d help you get a cell phone? Because you wanted to send in your scoop from the comfort of our home?”
“No! I—I didn’t know Kurt was coming. I’m not doing the story anymore?—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Phern, please?—”
“No,” she says, stepping into my space, fury trembling in every word. “You had a chance to come clean. And you didn’t. That tells me everything I need to know.”
“You don’t know everything!” I snap back. “I was fired from the station, and I have no idea why Kurt was here. Just because you’re afraid of being hurt doesn’t mean everyone is out to get you or Sam!”
The air between us crackles with something ugly.
“I want you gone before Sam gets home.”
My stomach hollows. “I’m not leaving until I talk to Sam.”
Her jaw clenches. “You don’t get a say in this. I’ll take you to town. Will can drive you to Sheridan from there. After that, I don’t give a shit what you do.”
I open my mouth. But no words come. Because I can feel everything breaking. And this time? I don’t know if I can fix it. But I have to try.
“Phern, I swear I’m not doing a story on Sam.”
Her laugh is hollow. “How perfect for you that you have the inside scoop that he’s recording a new album. I’m sure that will make a lovely headline.”
“I—”
“Get your shit and get out of my house.”
My heart feels like it’s fracturing into a million jagged pieces, sharp and splintered and impossible to hold together. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can only stand there, drowning in disbelief.
“Go!” Phern screams. “Before I call the police!”
That breaks me.
Tears spill hot down my cheeks as I stumble from the living room toward our bedroom—hisbedroom. My chest heaves as I reach the doorway and stop, eyes sweeping over the space that was feeling like safety.
But nothing in here is mine.
Not the boots by the door. Not the shirt I slept in. Not even the drawers he cleared for me. This isn’t my room. It never was.
