Hank’s POV
I walked down the hallway toward the kitchen, hoping to get a glass of water for Dahlia. She was still upstairs, resting. Whatever happened the night before had left us both tired and confused. My mind was still cloudy, but I was trying not to show it.
As I turned the corner into the kitchen, I bumped into someone hard.
A cold splash hit my chest and lower shirt.
“Whoa—!” I stepped back.
It was Kira. She had a tray in her hand, and a glass of juice had spilled all over me.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she said, but her tone didn’t sound too shocked. She set the tray aside quickly and reached toward me with a napkin.
“It’s fine, really,” I muttered, trying to brush it off.
But she was already in front of me, dabbing at the juice on my shirt with slow, careful movements.
T
