She paused, looking at it for a second, then added another slice.
My chest did something stupid.
She stacked everything carefully. “I’m taking this to Wraith and Lock.”
“Oh.”
She glanced at me. “You good here?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
Liar… you hope she’d ask you to go with her.
She nodded and headed for the door with the plates balanced in her arms.
I watched her disappear down the hall and had the incredibly silly thought?—
I hope he likes it.
I immediately wanted to shove my own head into the oven.
Get a grip, Kellan.
I turned back to the counter and focused on wiping flour that didn’t need wiping.
But the thought lingered anyway.
And that scared me almost as much as everything else.
By the time the last loaf was cooling and the kitchen had settled back into its usual noise, the afternoon had slipped away without me noticing. Ember handed out bowls, pointed me toward the hall, and told me to get some rest like it was the most normal thing in the world.
So I did.
I shut the door to Lock’s room behind me and just stood there for a second, like I’d forgotten how legs worked.
The clubhouse noise didn’t reach in here the same way. It was quieter, but not silent. I could still hear life moving around outside, boots on wood and distant voices.
Which was the problem.
None of this should’ve felt normal.
I looked around the room like it might suddenly remind me I didn’t belong in it. Same bed. Same dresser. Same heavy curtains pulled halfway shut. Same faint scent that clung to everything like it had soaked into the walls.
Lock.
Silas.
My chest tightened for no reason I wanted to admit, so I moved. Because standing still meant thinking, and thinking meant I’d start replaying?—
Don’t.
Too late.
My eyes went straight to the bed.
The place where I’d been pressed into the mattress that morning. Where his weight had pinned me there. Where his mouth had?—
Stop.
