Betty stormed past Grayson without slowing, her shoulder brushing the air beside him as if he were nothing more than a shadow on the wall. The sound of her footsteps was sharp. She entered her room and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
Inside, the silence pressed in on her ears. Her chest rose and fell too fast as she crossed the room, yanking her wardrobe open. Clothes came off hangers in hurried handfuls, folded carelessly, then abandoned altogether as she shoved them into her bag. Her hands trembled, but she didn’t stop. She packed as though speed alone could keep her from thinking, keep her from feeling.
Outside the room, Grayson stood exactly where she had left him.
He didn’t move. Didn’t call her name. Didn’t even follow her.
The door opened again minutes later. B
