Breakfast tasted like nothing. I pushed the eggs around my plate while Mr Montoya sat across from me, calm as ever, scrolling through something on his phone. The silence between us carried weight after last night when I had fallen asleep against his chest. Then I woke up alone in his bed.
I still felt the kisses on my lips. My face heated at the memory. I hated how easily my body remembered. He finished eating first, wiped his mouth, and stood.
“Excuse me,” he said flatly. No explanation or at best a clarification. No goodbye. Just that.
I nodded without looking up. The moment he disappeared out of the kitchen door, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Part of me wanted to follow him and demand answers about the voices I’d overheard near the shack yesterday. The Ramíre
