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Why?

I can’t think of a single good reason why Baryn would do something like this.

“You can’t know for sure how he will react,” Theo insists.

“You will be there,” I say. “But I have a feeling it will be easier for me to get him alone.”

I can tell Theo doesn’t like the implications of what I’ve just said. I don’t either, but the fact remains: Baryn would jump at the chance to be alone with me, even if the only motive is pissing off Theo.

A muscle in his cheek ticks, but he nods. “Just promise me something.”

“What?”

“That you won’t give him more credit than he deserves. If he is the one who killed Victoria, he’s capable of a lot more than just some sarcastic-ass remark.”

I nod again. “I promise.”

Theo presses a kiss to my temple. I lean into him.

This is the last night we’ll be here. One way or another, the truth is coming with us when we leave.

We stand there for a long moment before he finally pulls back—not far, just enough to look me over. The bathroom suddenly feels too small for everything sitting between us.

He studies me. “All the color has gone from your cheeks,” he murmurs. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I’m fine,” I say, though the slight sway in my balance gives me away.

He clears his throat, knuckles tapping the counter. It’s a small, restless movement. “You’re not,” he says. “Come on. You need something in your system before we plan any of this out.”

I follow him into the kitchen, legs unsteady for reasons that have nothing to do with the hours we spent tangled together.

Okay, it may have a little something to do with that.

Theo pulls out a bar stool and sets his hands on my hips, lifting me and easing me onto it. I want to tell him I’m not that fragile, but I kind of like the attention.

Being in the kitchen feels strange after the bombshell just dropped on us. There’s no one around. Since dinner is being catered, there’s not really much of a reason for anyone to be in here. Everything is eerily quiet. The inside of my head is so fucking loud in contrast.

He just stares at me for a second, then walks over and opens the fridge, grabbing a container of cut fruit, a small coconut yogurt, and a bottle of water. He sets them on the counter, opens the yogurt, and hands me a spoon.

I stare at it a second too long. “Giles will not be happy about this if he finds us here again.”

He nudges the water toward me. “Don’t make me force feed you.”

I eat mechanically, the taste barely registering. My thoughts are on a rollercoaster, Baryn in the front seat, and the one part that still somehow refuses to fit.

I can’t put my finger on it.

There’s so much I want to say to Theo that I can’t. At least not here.

My eyes drift to the refrigerator and I stifle a groan.

This fucking house.

He watches me shovel down my food while not eating anything himself.

I can’t come up with a single version of this that doesn’t end badly.

There are too many variables.