Andrea’s POV
I sat on the edge of my bed, the blanket twisted in my hands, unraveling thread by thread like the certainty in my chest.
Aunt Irish hadn't said a single word on the way home. Not even when I asked… gently, nervously, where she'd gone while I was asleep.
Her face was unreadable, tight around the jaw, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel like she was holding back an avalanche.
Now she stood at my door, not asking for permission, just standing there with eyes full of warning.
“Sit,” she said, though I already was.
I swallowed hard. “Aunt Irish… what’s going on?”
Her eyes grazed to mine. “You need to stay away from him as I told you.”
“Braxton?” I was still stunned with disbelief. “Why?”
She didn’t answer right away. Just stared at me like she was memoriz
