After I used the damn toilet, I rinsed my hands, and then braced both palms on the counter. She was going to come out of this. I was going to make damn sure of it.
And when she did… when she was steady and thinking clearly again…
We were going to talk. If I reminded myself of this enough, it would help me maintain the control we needed.
I left the bathroom and stepped back into the bedroom.
She was still asleep. Curled slightly to the side now, face half-buried in the blanket, one hand peeking out from the folds. Vulnerable and flushed and so damn beautiful it hurt to look at her.
I stared at her for a long moment. Let myself have that. Just that.
There were so many things I wanted to say.
And so many more I knew I couldn’t.
Not yet.
The sound of the front door opening snapped me out of it.
I turned sharply. Moved to the bedroom door and stepped through, easing it closed behind me until the latch clicked quietly into place. Jay stood in the kitchen, his expression tight and fierce. I tracked his gaze to where Rhett was already pacing, his hair damp and littered with flecks of snow.
He’d left his boots by the door and dropped his jacket too, but energy just surged off of him.
I didn’t get a chance to say a word. He turned as soon as I came out. His energy was wrong—tight, barely contained.
“We’ve got a problem.”
My stomach sank even as my spine straightened.
“What kind of problem?”
Chapter
Nineteen
WREN
Ihad no idea how long I’d slept.
The room was steeped in shadows, the last light of the day bleeding faintly through the edges of the heavy curtains. But there was light in the next room—muted, pale, artificial. Not morning light.
The bed was empty.
Not cold, though. Roan’s warmth still lingered in the blankets, pressed into the dip of the mattress where his weight had been. But he was gone now. And I wasn’t alone.
Their energy—the three of them—was still here. I could feel it. Like static crawling over my skin. Familiar. Wild. Controlled but charged.
Even muffled behind the bedroom door, the pulse of them was unmistakable.
I drew in a breath and sat up slowly, my head swimming, legs trembling with the effort. Everything ached in that dull, lingering way—like I’d been sick for days and was finally coming up for air.
I didn’t feelbetter, not exactly. But I couldthink. That felt like something. I got to my feet and padded to the bathroom, my steps unsteady. My legs hated me. My hips hated me more.
When the hell hadheatmade me feel so… broken?
That said, I managed the essentials, though. Peeing took longer than I wanted to admit—my bladder was staging a full rebellion. I splashed cold water on my face, brushed my teeth slowly. Even found a comb and wrestled it through my hair, working out the tangles with grim determination and sharp little winces.
A shower was out of the question. I could admit that. I didn’t trust my legs to hold me up for that long.
