I toss my shirts and a few pairs of jeans into my bag and then zip it up. “There’s… there’s…” I can’t get it out and he steps out of the doorway zipping up the mini bag he carries his toiletries in.
“Cindy, whatever it is, just tell me.” He drops the smaller bag into the larger one on the bed. “It’s okay.”
“There’s someone in the house,” I sputter, dragging my bag to the door.
“Obviously.” He raises his eyebrows at me and then scrutinizes my bag. “Did you put any shorts or sandals in there? It’s going to be a hell of a lot warmer there then it is here. Plus, you don’t want to walk around in the sand wearing sneakers.”
-- --
“I don’t own anything else,” I say and then swiftly shake my head as I jerk open the door. “Tyson, we have to go. Now.”
Everything’s about to fall apart, just l
