The house was quiet as I settled onto the couch, the clock reading 5:30 a.m. It had been hours since I started baking, the kitchen counter now lined with sweets—cherry pie, brownies, chocolate cookies, and scones currently baking in the oven. I’d thrown on a mindless chick flick, something light and brainless to distract me. I absently nibbled on a brownie, letting the rich chocolate melt on my tongue as the movie’s cheesy dialogue filled the room. It was soothing in its own way, the repetitive motions of baking combined with the sugar rush making the nightmare feel distant, less real.
I didn’t hear Dominic come in at first. He must have used the back door because when he dropped down onto the couch beside me, I jumped, startled out of my thoughts. My heart leapt into my throat, and I tur
