The next morning, I woke to sunlight flooding the room.
My phone was quiet. There were no messages from Grant, and there were no more push notifications from the app.
I let out a long breath, like I had finally broken through the surface of the water.
When I went downstairs for breakfast, Martha brought me a bowl of creamy oatmeal topped with honey and fresh berries.
The oatmeal was warm and creamy, sweetened with honey and topped with fresh berries that burst softly against my tongue.
"That man who stood outside the gate all night. Do you know him, miss?"
My spoon paused halfway to my mouth. "What?"
Martha wiped her hands on her apron and nodded toward the door.
"That man in the rumpled shirt. Handsome fellow. Last night, not long after you came back, he showed up and stood under
