I should have known Killian would call Em and Maya before I do.
I’m rudely woken up the next morning by the banging of the front door and an all too familiar voice, Em's, that says—more like shouts— “Where is she?”
I roll over and glance at the clock on my nightstand. 06:27. It’s barely seven o’clock. Before I can even throw my blankets off my body and make my way out of my room to greet them, Em blasts into my room like the wind blew her in. When I open my mouth to say something, she, in a blink of an eye, already has her arms around me, crushing me under her weight—and hurting my shoulder in the process. But I don’t tell her to get off me, instead I hug her just as tightly, tears rolling down my face, and ignoring the throbbing pain in my shoulder.
We stay like that for what feels
