Molly woke with a start.
For a moment she couldn’t place the sounds around her—the soft creak of wood settling, the faint hum of voices. Her body tensed, heart climbing in her throat, until the rest of it reached her: Scarlett’s laughter, high and bubbling, followed by Jack’s voice rumbling in some low, ridiculous sing-song that didn’t sound like him at all.
She blinked against the golden stripe of sun that cut through the crack in the curtains. The little room still smelled faintly of baby lotion and detergent, as if the rainbow sheets had been washed a hundred times. She’d meant to stay awake on the rug, keep guard, but somewhere in the quiet she’d tipped sideways, sleep stealing her without asking.
Her neck ached from the angle. She rubbed it, wincing, and pushed herself upright. Sca
