The knock on the bathroom door was quiet, but it thundered straight through me.
“Grace.”
My fingers froze around the envelope. The map crumpled in my grip as panic surged. I shoved it back into the hollow behind the loose tile, but the damage was already done. He’d heard.
“I’ll be out in a second,” I called, forcing steadiness into my voice.
The silence on the other side was worse than shouting. Then came the slow drag of his hand against the wood more ache than anger.
“Don’t shut me out again, don’t do that,” Noah said, low, tired, almost pleading.
Something inside me gave way. My hand trembled as I slid back the lock.
He stood in the hall, hair unkempt, jaw locked tight, eyes storm-dark and relentless. He looked at me as if every suspicion he’d been burying had finally clawed its
