The morning sunlight filtered gently through the thin curtains, bathing Ryleigh’s room in a golden haze. Sunday. Her second day off. She lay still for a few minutes, watching the way the dust danced in the light. The pack house was unusually quiet—no clattering in the kitchen yet, no voices in the hallway. Maybe even time had slowed down in anticipation of what the day might bring.
Derek was coming. He had said they’d tell his mother about them.
Ryleigh turned onto her side and stared at the far wall. Her stomach twisted in knots. What exactly were they supposed to say?
Hi, Margaret. I know I’m not allowed to even speak to you, but I’m dating your son now. Surprise!
She groaned, pulling the blanket over her head.
What if Margaret forbade it? What if she punished Ryleigh—or worse, Dere
