Fawn's POV
One corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m starting to notice.”
We let that sit there for a second, thickening the space between us. The air felt heavy with everything neither of us was saying. I shifted, suddenly aware again of the flimsy gown and how exposed my legs felt under the thin blanket and the backless gown.
“What happens when they decide I’m not going to drop dead mid-MRI?” I asked, if only to get us off the topic of what I felt like. “Do they keep me here? Ship me off to some rehab center with group therapy and inspirational posters?”
His expression shuttered. “No.”
“No?”
“You’ll come home,” he said. “To the penthouse. It’s secure and private. It’s where you lived before. It makes sense.”
Home. The word scraped something raw inside me. Not Fawn’s home with her che
