Loaded down with pajamas and a towel, I entered the bathroom and turned on the hot water.
Once steam fogged the mirror, I stepped in and began scrubbing the long, miserable day away.
I stayed under the spray until my fingertips pruned and my skin glowed from the temperature.
Arm thrust out around the edge of the shower curtain, I groped the air for my towel.
And when my fingertips slid off the waffle texture, it moved with them. Closer. Within reach.
What the actual hell? Is this how it all ends? Death by Turkish cotton?
Fists curling in the fabric, I slung the curtain wide open and came face to face…
…with Goldie.
I hit my knees, stacked my arms on the edge of the tub, and dropped my forehead on top of them.
“You just scared ten years off my life,” I panted, too jittery to even raise my head. “Where’s Rían?”
“He’s with Gran.”
As my lungs recalled how to inflate, I caught a second wind and faced her. “Do they know you’re here?”
“They said you needed time alone.” Her voice came out soft. “But I wanted to stay here, with you.”
When I first heard Rían’s reasons for lowering the wards and reactivating cellphone service and internet, I had assumed I was the cause. He wanted a quicker way to reach me, and a faster method of conveying information to his enforcers in the event of a Sartori attack. With Carmichael MIA, he needed those things more than ever. It had been shortsighted of me to forget that, while Goldie acted mature beyond her years in matters of enterprise, she was still a little kid with abandonment issues that stemmed from losing her parents so young.
“Ana?” Sloane’s voice rang out. “Everything okay in there?”
“Fine,” I called back, voice thready. “Can you preheat the oven for me?”
“Say less.”
“Can you go wait with Sloane in the kitchen?” I accepted the towel from Goldie. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
With one last pleading glance, she exited the bathroom and plodded down the hall. Slowly. Very slowly.
As soon as feeling returned to my legs, I stood and dried off before tugging on my clothes. I met Sloane and Goldie in the kitchen, their heads bent over a recipe book I had left out at some point.
When Sloane spotted me, she hooked a thumb over her shoulder, sympathy darkening her eyes.
“I’ll go let them know where this one is,” she said, pivoting toward the door. “Be back in a few.”
Alone with the escape artist, who must have crept into the house through an unlocked window to avoid Sloane scenting her, I went to ask if she had any requests. Giving a kid sugar this time of night wasn’t wise, I knew, but she was hurting. I couldn’t bear to tuck her in and turn my back. Not when I would have given anything some nights for someone to comfort me.
Homemade food, I had learned, healed a great many wounds. Even those inflicted on the heart.
“Gingerbread?” I was impressed with her selection. “That’s what you want?”
“You don’t like it?” She traced a finger down the page. “Nobody else does either.”
“Then they haven’t triedmygingerbread.” I ruffled her hair until she grinned up at me. “I have a recipe for soft cookies too, if you would rather have that than the traditional kind.”
“It tastes the same?”
“I promise.” I placed a hand over my heart. “It’s just easier on the teeth.”
Before we got farther than placing our ingredients on the counter, Rían prowled into the kitchen. Even knowing he wouldn’t hurt her, I found myself wanting to inch in front of her and cut off his line of sight. Except she had run twice now. Safe enough, for tonight, but I couldn’t say the same in a few days’ time. That meant no swooping in to save her from the consequences of her actions, no matter how much I might want to be her knight in royal icing.
