8
Secrets
Miranda
Oh, Goddess, my head was killing me. I sat up on the couch and looked around the unfamiliar room, a panic-induced adrenaline rush moving through me as I tried to remember where the hell I was.
Then I saw Simon come toward where I sat, a glass of water in his hand. He didn’t try to sit down on the sofa, but only extended the water to me.
“Are you doing better?”
“I don’t know.” I took the water from him with a shaking hand and gulped it down, my body as dehydrated as though I’d just walked fifty miles in dry desert heat. The water didn’t exactly get rid of the headache, but the pain did settle down to a dull pounding. “Maybe.”
Facing the sofa was a plain wood cross-back chair with a blue cushion. Simon picked it up and moved it a little closer to the couch, then sat
