Bleach like I smelled onhim.
He was here. He walked across these dark, scratched floorboards. Probably crossed the sitting area on my left.
He was here, and now what? They’re ashamed of him? That’s why he won’t come see me? Because they ordered him not to?
Resentment stirs within me, my jaw ticking. This isn’t right, treating one of your own like an embarrassment.
Bronwyn’s treated me like that for years.
But she’s changed. I shouldn’t be drowning in self-pity. Should stop making assumptions about this family.
Besides, there are more important things to tend to. Like checking up on Bronwyn.
Ma crosses the floor toward the stairs at record speed, and as I follow her, I perk my ears to listen for my sister and Easton’s voices. At first, I hear nothing. Just the sound of my footsteps, Ma’s heels until—ah, there it is. Bronwyn’s stomping. I’d recognize the sound anywhere.
Now that I know my sister’s safe, a plan starts forming in my head. It sharpens with each step up the stairs that creak beneath my sneakers.
I have to meethim. I must.
Once everyone’s turned in, I’ll wait an hour or two until the house is quiet. Then I’ll tell Bronwyn where I’m going and sneak out to search for him.
I know how wrong it is to violate this family’s privacy. I know how dangerous it is, too, walking into a stranger’s house with nothing but my scalpel.
But the pull…the need…it’s alive and thrumming under my skin.
That invisible leash keeps yanking me toward him.
Oblivious to my spiraling thoughts, Ma walks ahead and up the stairs. Her back is straight, her steps confident. She has one hand on the railing, humming a tune I don’t recognize.
Eventually, at the landing, she slows until she stops at an open doorway.
“This one’s you.” She presses her palm to the frame, practically introducing me to the room.
From the room across the hall, I hear Bronwyn talking to Easton, but she’s too quiet. She isn’t screaming like she did before, nor is she pacing.
“Umm.” Worry sneaks up on me. I finger the strap of my duffel, my gaze dancing between Ma and the other room. “Maybe I should go see if Bronwyn needs anything?”
“Don’t worry about her.” Ma waves me off, the movement sharp. “If Jett and Papa aren’t here, this must mean she and her man have settled in just fine.”
“Okay…” Honestly, there’s no reason to argue. It’s not like Bronwyn wants to see me right now, anyway.
“Oh, and another thing.” My hostess dips her chin, her gaze reminding me of a preschool teacher. Warmth spiked withdon’t test me. “There’ll be no showering tonight. The heater won’t work until the morning, so you’ve got no reason to wander around here.”
Fine by me. The faster everyone’s off to bed, the better.
“I’ll be turning in, then.”
“Good call.” Her stare is unwavering.
Briefly, unease flutters through me. Then Ma turns and stalks off toward what must be her bedroom.
All worries are cast aside as I take in the adorable space. Rustic furniture, a blue quilt stretched across the queen-size bed, a little rug in the center. A soft breeze slips through the open window in my assigned room, cooling my skin, and I smile.
I’m fully aware it’s nowhere near as nice as the rooms Bronwyn booked for us. Even out here in the middle of nowhere, of course she sniffed out the fanciest hotel possible. Comfort is as essential to her as breathing itself, which could explain the stomping from earlier.
Me, I have other things in mind.
Him.
