Bailey’s POV
“I hate waiting,” I muttered to myself as I paced the length of my room again, my bare feet brushing the rug over and over like if I walked enough the night would hurry up and arrive faster. “I really hate it.”
The room didn’t answer me and that somehow made it worse.
I stopped near the window, then turned back again, hands twisting together, my mind jumping between too many things at once, the well, Eric, the note under my pillow, my body, the heat that kept threatening to roll over me like a wave I could not see coming.
“Not now,” I whispered, pressing a hand to my stomach. “Please not now.”
I hated that I couldn’t control it. I hated that my body decided things for me when my mind was already stretched thin. I had spent most of the day alone on purpose, avoiding everyo
