Family breakfast had never been a comfortable affair but today was somehow worse. Not only was Gideon there for once, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off of him, but I had my hands shoved so far under the table that I’d cricked my back.
Luckily, I’d been able to cover up most of the scrapes and the still-appearing bruises with long, flowing clothes and generous makeup – it wouldn’t look as good as when Rachel did it but what choice did I have? That still wasn’t the worst of it though. Walking was painful, covering up my new limp was hard and yet sitting was worse than either. Falling from the hedge had done a number on my back and tailbone.
I shifted in my chair and winced, forced to bite down on a groan. Gideon’s knee nudged mine under the table and I jerked away, near
