I found some clothes folded neatly on the dresser. They were mine. Not the ones I’d worn last night—the ones stained in my blood—but they were clothes from my dresser at the B&B. I brushed my fingertips over a note left on top of the stack.
Mom thought you’d need some fresh clothes. She dropped them off this morning.
-G
I didn’t linger on what that meant. How I’d have to face Raleigh later and what she’d think when she saw me.
Hastily, I gathered the clothes and carried them to the bathroom.
A new toothbrush—sealed in the package—sat beside the sink. That small gesture almost made me smile. Almost.
The bathroom was spotless. Tile floors were mopped and gleaming, the lighting was soft, and a glass shower stood next to a deep bathtub. My gaze caught on the shower.
Would it be weird to use it?
Probably.
But when I looked in the mirror, the question died on my tongue.
I looked awful. My hair was a tangled mess; my lip was swollen, and the cut beneath it burned. The bruising along my throat wasn’t too visible, thank God, but I still looked…like a victim.
My jaw clenched.
I turned on the shower and locked the door before I talked myself out of it. Graham’s clothes came off slowly, every movement a small ache. I stuffed them into a hamper by the door, ignoring the way his scent lingered on my bare skin.
The water was scalding when I stepped under the spray. It stung, but it also felt good. My lip throbbed. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to get it wet, but I didn’t care. I needed to be clean.
I stood there, letting the cascading water ease my tight muscles, ignoring the sight of the purple bruises over my ribs.
Eventually I forced myself to move—to wash and shampoo my hair as quickly as my sore body would allow. I didn’t linger once the last bunch of suds were washed away.
I wrapped myself in one of the large, fluffy towels on a shelf. Once I was dry, I dressed in my clothes. I brushed my teeth and hair, then braided my damp locks before studying myself again. The mirror showed the same tired eyes and bandaged lip, but at least I looked presentable.
The bedroom was still empty when I returned. No sign of Graham. Part of me expected him to show up at any moment.
I moved quickly, gathering my phone and work bag. My pulse picked up as I neared the door and grabbed the knob. Taking a few breaths, I silently opened it, peeking out into the hall. The house was quiet. If I was lucky, Graham was in a different part of the house—or gone entirely.
I wasn’t ungrateful for what he did. But the thought of seeing him again after last night—after he saw me like that—was embarrassing. I winced at the thought of facing him.
After a few long moments of silence, I left Graham’s bedroom. The layout of his home was simple enough; I remembered the front door being a straight shot through the kitchen and living room from here.
My heart thudded as I walked, lightly and quickly on the balls of my feet. I didn’t see him in the kitchen or the living room. My gaze locked onto the front door ahead of me, freedom only a few steps away.
Almost there.
I reached for the handle when his voice made me freeze.
“Feeling better today, Quinn?”
12
Graham
Shestoodfrozenbythe front door, eyes so wide I feared they might pop out of her skull. I almost laughed at the sight of her, caught sneaking out of my house like some rogue teenager—but I was too tired.
Instead, I watched her, taking a sip of my coffee as her mind decided how she was going to react. I hadn’t meant to catch her so off guard. I’d been sitting at the dining room table,eating some breakfast when she’d walked through the kitchen. She apparently hadn’t seen me—or didn’t know the dining table existed on the opposite side of the kitchen.
I scanned her face, looking for any signs of pain, but there was mostly shock and surprise. She’d gained some color in her face since last night. Her lip was more bruised, but she looked like she’d showered.
