The Lodge smelt like antiseptic and burnt wood.
I was sitting at the bottom step of the grand staircase, watching the living room couch where Logan was resting.
The front door suddenly pushed open. Oliver stumbled through the door, covered in snow, looking exhausted but calm.
I quietly watched as he unzipped his jacket. His boots were wet, and his jacket sleeve... was painted crimson.
That was either blood or lipstick?
Before Oliver could take off his coat, Kyren had him pinned against the door.
He had a murderous glare on his face when he spoke. "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you," Kyren said, pressing him harder against the door.
"I went hiking to celebrate my win last night," he said, pushing Kyren off him.
"You didn't happen to pass by the boathouse last nig
