Unfortunately, the ache did nothing to dull the irritation simmering inside.
I’d barely slept, my mind replaying Henry’s voice on a loop, telling me I wasn’t his captive, but that I still wasn’t free.And each time I thought about it, the more frustrated I became with the situation.Sure, he sounded distraught when he spoke of walking up to the Jeep and seeing all my blood.But was that enough of a reason for him to take away my freedom?
I blinked against the light and forced myself to sit up.The room smelled faintly of lemon and tea tree oil — soft, soothing, curated.Everything in this house was like that.Thoughtful.Comfortable.Controlled.
Just like the prison Victor kept me in.
It made my skin itch.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I limped toward the bathroom and went about my business before washing my hands and splashing cold water on my face.It did nothing to soothe the storm brewing inside me.If anything, the bandage on my forehead was a stark reminder of my captivity.
After twisting my hair into a messy bun, I made my way out of the room, intending to check on Mom in the guest house.
But halfway down the stairs, a familiar sound stopped me in my tracks.
Laughter.
Not just any laughter.Mymom’slaughter.
It had been so long since I’d heard it without the brittle edge of confusion, I almost didn’t recognize it.
I followed it down the stairs and into the kitchen, the smell of bacon making my stomach growl.Mom perched on a stool by the island, drinking a tea as Henry moved through the open space.
It brought back memories of the first morning I woke up in the cabin.I’d been so taken aback to see Henry cooking, let alone for me.I wasn’t sure if I should even eat the bacon, since Victor never let me have any.
But Henry did.
He didn’t dictate what I did or what I ate.
He didn’t control me.
So why was I so eager to put him in the same category as Victor now?
Sensing my presence, Henry looked up from the frying pan, his green eyes locking on mine.“Morning.”
“Morning,” I replied evenly, turning my attention to my mom, who looked between us with interest.
I still hadn’t told her everything about how I met Henry and what led us to this point.I was still coming to terms with it myself.For now, all she knew was he’d witnessed someone try to abduct me and took me to safety.
If his version of events were to be believed, it wasn’t that far from the truth.
“How did you sleep, Ma?”I asked.
“Great,” she said brightly.“You?”
“Fine.”
It was a total lie.
“Bacon and eggs okay for breakfast?”Henry asked, setting a coffee in front of me.It was made exactly how I liked it.
Another small gesture that should have soothed me but instead made me feel like I was being handled.Controlled.
“Sure.”
The first sip burned just enough to wake me.I watched as he tossed a strip of bacon to Cato, who caught it and swallowed it without chewing before resuming his begging position, wagging his tail in the hopes of Henry throwing him even more scraps.
“I was just telling Henry about your ballet days,” Mom announced, taking a sip of her tea.
