…RILEY…
*****
The next morning felt heavier than the night before.
The house was supposed to feel calmer now that Soren was home, but it didn’t because Cass was also here.
I’d finished folding the last of the laundry — his shirts, his jeans, the white towel from the hospital that still smelled faintly of antiseptic — and now I stood in the hallway, basket balanced against my hip, staring at his closed door.
He’d been in there all day and I kept hearing the occasional thud and the sound of him cursing under his breath.
“f**k. Not again!”
Something crashed — glass, maybe. Or a drawer.
My pulse jumped.
I glanced down the hall toward Cass’s room. Her door was shut, as always lately. It was strange. For someone who claimed she was “done trying,” she suddenly seemed glued to the house.
