“I was just thinking ...” She smooths her blazer, glancing away. “We should have breakfast. Like, together.”
“Breakfast.” If my expression hides my revulsion at the thought, my voice makes it clear. “Really?”
Athumpsounds behind my closed door, and alarm pricks my skin.
My mom peers around me. “Do you have company?” Slowly, her eyes slide down the hall, toward Eva’s open door, then back again.
“Yeah,” I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck. “Ah, Whitney stayed over.”
“Oh.” She glances at Eva’s door again, but this time, her attention lingers. “Hmm. Odd for Eva to be up this early, isn’t it?” She squints and turns toward Eva’s room. “In fact, I’m just going to check on—”
“Wait.” We’re both startled when I grab my mom’s arm. She looks down, at where my hand is curled lightly around her wrist, and I let go. “I’m sure she just forgot to shut her door. You know how she likes to sleep in. But if you still want that breakfast, I’m headed downstairs for coffee, so ...” My next words are awkward as hell, each one trapped in my throat, but I push them out like my life depends on it. Because Eva’s might. “Want to come? I’ll, uh, I’ll make you some.” I almost choke when I force out, “I’ll make it the way you want.”
There’s a reason I usually let Eva make my mom’s coffee. I refuse to spike it, something that used to piss my mom off enough she’d double her pill intake to compensate. I couldn’t bring myself to add the shit to her drink. When she started having Eva make it for her, I noticed Eva only adds the bare minimum, just enough my mom can’t tell the difference. I’ve silently appreciated that since day one.
My mom’s brows knit as she eyes me skeptically. “Really?”
My jaw is hard, but I nod. “Yep.”
I don’t wait for her response before I start walking toward the staircase, hoping like hell she’ll follow.
Any other day, she’d march right down that hall to see where Eva is for herself. But, apparently, I’m not the only one still affected by everything that came out at the anniversary party.
Four steps, five steps ... finally, the familiarclick-clackof heels sounds behind me, and I push out a breath of relief.
She knows something’s up, but she doesn’t knowwhat.
For now.
Eva
Thump.
I spring upright, fingers curling into the sheets.What the fuck was that?My heart echoes thethump, thump, thump, and my gaze flits to the empty side of the bed.
He’s gone.
Trying to slow my breathing, I scan the rest of Easton’s room.
You’re being stupid again.
I imagined the sound. It’s not real. My broken box is spazzing and—
Terror clutches my throat when I spy a tall, dark form blocking the window. A gasp leaves my mouth. I try to scream, but I can’t—I can’t—I can’t—
“Shhh. It’s okay.” The form moves closer, its shadow climbing up the walls and over my head, and I’m useless, frozen, broken. “Evangeline. It’s okay.”
Evangeline.
Evangeline.
He knows my name.
Warm fingers brush my shoulders. I open my mouth to scream, but the shadow grips the sides of my face with gentle hands—hands connected to bulky, olive-toned arms. He angles my head upward, forcing my wide eyes to lock on his.
“Shhh ...” he says again. “It’s me. It’sme.”
“Alejandro,” I breathe. Relief pours into my lungs with sharp bursts of oxygen, and as my pulse slows, I realize he’s not a shadow at all. I can see him clearly. “Alejandro. You’re here.”
