He doesn’t say anything. Fuck, there’s nothing to say.
We ride back to the house in silence. The atmosphere grows colder and colder until I can almost taste ice on my tongue. The ache in my stomach burns a little more with every mile.
When we pull up, I get out without a word, collecting my bag and making my way into the house. Gray stands in the entrance, his eyes raking me as I pass without a word.
Heading to my weird nest, I place the bags carefully to one side before rolling up my sleeves and carrying on.
Collecting a pile of dirty tarps, I stagger towards the door to dump them in the other room. Pushing past one of the remaining piles of boxes, a sharp pain radiates through my leg and everything collapses to the floor, me included.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”
I’m not sure what I’m most annoyed about – the nasty cut at the back of my calf or that my brand-new replacement jeans now have a massive rip in them.
Taking a deep breath, I grab one of the cloths and wrap it carefully around the cut. Turpentine is good for cuts, right? Because there’s no way in hell I’m going down and asking for help from the Cohens. Not a chance.
Bracing myself, I stand up and take a careful step.
Okay, that hurts.
I bite my lip, taking another step.Manageable. Definitely manageable.
It has to be.
I have four days until Ollena comes. Four days to make this shitty little room into an acceptable nest.
I have no blankets. No lights. Not even a candle.
One thing at a time.
Clear the room. Clean the room. Fill the room.
Four days. Let’s go, Sienna.
And no matter what, I will not think about them.
I will not cry over them. Or abouther.
I will not break.
30
LOGAN
Imake my way towards Sienna’s makeshift nesting space. We’ve barely seen her over the last three days. Our Soul Bonded is a ghost, a glimpse of pink hair before a door closes, a faint scent of raspberries in the kitchen, a dish or two drying on the side.
My chest aches. This whole situation needs to resolve itself. I don’t even know if she’ll be able to forgive us for the way we’ve been.
We’ll never stop making it up to you.
I stop awkwardly at the doorway before I lift a hand to knock.
“Sienna?” I call softly. “It’s Logan. Can I come in?”
There’s a shuffling inside before the door pulls open, and I feel like I can finally take a proper breath for the first time in days.
It quickly fades though, concern taking its place.
“Sienna.” I step closer, my hands gripping her arms lightly. “What’s wrong?”
