19The curtained doorway of Gideon’s private room is before me. Both Gideon and Liam are there, leaning intently over a laptop sitting in front of them on the coffee table.
The usual fire is crackling in the hearth, and the room smells wonderfully of smoldering pine.
I can hear what they are saying.
“It’s like she said. She doesn’t look the same as when she was here eight years ago. She was telling us the truth, Gideon.”
Gideon merely nods his concurrence. He appears to be truly absorbed in whatever they are looking at.
Wait. Eight years ago? She? They’re talking about me. When I’d been visiting here before. Long before them.
My hair had been black and styled differently—same as my clothing. I was very Goth at the time, but when I realized it wasn’t the best shade for my skin tone, I’
