By the time I came back to myself, the call was over and he had disappeared into the kitchen.
He waved off the compound staff and stood at the stove himself, simmering soup for Adrian Winslow with his own hands.
I watched from the doorway. A quiet, mocking breath escaped me. I pressed my thumb against the inside of my wrist, held it there for one beat, then turned and walked away.
For the next several days, I barely left my room. I was waiting for the island paperwork to clear so I could leave the Moretti compound for good.
Then Adrian Winslow was released from the Family doctor's care, and she came knocking at my door, chattering like nothing in the world had ever gone wrong.
"Sister, my husband has a race today. Come with us. I know you've been grieving since Julian passed, but locking yourself in here day after day is going to make you sick."