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“Not anymore,” I said flatly.
“What? Damn.”
Another text notification appeared across my screen, seizing my breath.
Derek: You are making a mistake. Come home, Wren!
My blood ran cold, my spine stiffening.
“Wren?” Ava’s voice pulled me back. “Listen to me. If you’re in trouble, you can tell me. I’m just so worried about you.”
“I just—I need some time off.”
“Wren?”
I hung up, then turned off my phone. The walls around me were closing in, and my eyes were blurry because of the tears I was trying so hard to rein in.
“He’s not here,” I whispered to myself. “He doesn’t know where you are.”
Derek has been a parasite in my life for the past two years. I’d be damned if I let him take away what was left of my life.
I decided I wasn’t going to sulk, so I made pancakes instead. The aroma filled the kitchen in no time. I was halfway through flipping another one when a deep voice growled behind me.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The spatula nearly flew from my hand. I yelped, my heart launching into my throat.
Knox stood at the kitchen entrance. His dark hair was a complete mess, his simple white tee clinging to his firm muscles. His broad shoulders filled the doorway like an imposing sense of doom, and the deep frown etched on his face showed me that he looked one inconvenience away from committing murder.
“S-sorry.” The apology slipped out automatically.
His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t say—”
“I’m sorry.” I set the spatula down. “I know you probably don’t like people touching your stuff.”
His expression hardened.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to...”
I flinched when his voice sharpened. “Wren.”
The room instantly fell silent. My chest tightened, and my hands began to tremble.
Knox’s jaw clenched. His gaze dropped briefly to my hands, then to my face. Something dark flashed through his eyes. It wasn’t anger. It was something else, something dangerous, and I could tell it wasn’t necessarily directed at me.
His voice lowered considerably. “You made breakfast?”
I nodded. The tension slowly eased from my shoulders. “Yeah.”
He paused, sighing heavily. “You’re impossible.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You cooked.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
His eyes narrowed on me.
