When I stepped through the front door, the house was quieter than usual, the silence pressing against my ears. The tension from earlier still clung to me, like a weight I couldn't shake off. My encounter with Liam the heat of his gaze, the way his presence had consumed everything, still pulsed in my veins. It was hard to push away. I heard the faint clatter of dishes in the kitchen before I even saw her. Ella was already there, standing at the stove, her back to me, humming under her breath as she flipped pancakes. The smell of butter and syrup filled the space, soothing in its normalcy. It almost felt like nothing had happened. Like I hadn't just spent an entire night tangled in a game of power and silence with Liam. "You're up early," she said, glancing over her shoulder as I stepped inside. Her eyes searched mine, but she didn't ask. She didn't have to. I didn't answer right away. Instead, I moved to the counter, pulled out a chair, and sat down with a sigh. I needed a minute, j
Sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the ghost of his hand sliding down my back. I felt the sting of that playful, possessive smack, and heard the low, teasing rumble of his voice curling into my ear. Make me, he’d said. And I’d spent the night with my thighs pressed tight, trying to suffocate the heat that pulsed inside me, trying to pretend he hadn’t gotten under my skin. But the ache didn’t go away. It throbbed with every shift in the sheets, every memory of his mouth inches from mine. By morning, I looked like hell and felt worse. My eyes were puffy, my cheeks flushed, and my skin still tingled with something I didn’t want to name. I threw my hair into a messy bun, barely managed to tug on a pair of jeans, and stumbled down the stairs barefoot, hoping no one was up to witness me in this pathetic state. I told myself I’d go see Sky and her baby. That I needed air. That I needed a distraction. Anything to smother what was happening inside me. But the moment
Dinner was a warm, homey affair. The scent of roasted chicken and garlic mashed potatoes filled the kitchen, mingling with the sweet tang of apple cider. A bowl of creamed spinach sat beside buttery cornbread, and Ella had baked her signature peach cobbler, still steaming at the center of the table. Laughter mingled with clinking cutlery and the low hum of evening crickets just outside the open window. I was beaming, barely able to keep still. "Sky gave birth today. A healthy female calf." Everyone looked up from their plates, and Ella let out a delighted gasp. "That's wonderful, sweetheart," she said. "She almost gave up halfway," I added. "Just laid there like she'd lost the fight. But I kept whispering to her, 'Don't let pain convince you to quit—because it always passes.' And then, boom, ten minutes later, there she was. A little miracle on shaky legs." Mr. Evans chuckled. "That's your magic, Sara. Animals listen to people with hearts like yours." I smiled, then noticed him
Not long after Greg and Trevor left, the house fell back into a quiet lull. I finally came clean and told them I wasn't going. You should've seen the smug look on Greg's face, like he'd just won the lottery. According to him, when I said I don't know, I actually meant no, and that of course, meant he was right. Annoyingly right. They didn't argue. Not much, anyway. Apparently, they had other people to pester. Their attempts to drag me and Liam into their chaotic little camping trip had failed, so they were off to recruit new victims. I won't lie, I kind of wanted to go. Not for the s'mores or ghost stories, but because maybe getting lost in the woods for a weekend would be easier than getting lost in my own mind. There are so many questions I've been avoiding, memories I don't fully trust. The more I think I've figured out my past, the more tangled and distorted it becomes. It's like trying to piece together a shattered mirror—nothing ever fits the way it should. But still, one thi
Because the moment Liam opened the door, peace and quiet vanished like smoke in a storm. "Trickster!" Greg hollered the second he spotted me, grinning like he'd just seen a long-lost celebrity. "Look who's still alive and looking ghostly as ever!" I didn't even get a chance to respond before Trevor popped out from behind him and dramatically sucked in a breath. "Damn, Trickster, are you okay? You look like you've been hiding in a crypt for three days." "I have," I deadpanned, lifting a forkful of pasta to my mouth. "Nice of you to notice." Trevor grinned like I'd just handed him a win. "Ohh, she bites back. Good. I was worried you'd gone soft." "Pale, moody, and sarcastic," he added as he stepped inside like he owned the place. "Yep. Still our Trickster." And just like that, the kitchen exploded with energy. Trevor barged in first, tall and loud and impossible to ignore, followed by Greg, whose grin suggested he had mischief brewing in every pocket. "Is that pasta I smell?" Greg
It has been three days since that memory surfaced, and I still can't come to terms with it. I remembered I was married. I remembered he cheated on me with a girl named Justice. From what I saw, we were practically divorced already. I returned the wedding ring. That moment felt final. And now I understand that Henry wasn't lying when he said I wasn't wearing a ring. I truly wasn't. That much of the past finally makes sense. But the more I think about it, the more tempted I am to go to Emilia's house and demand that she tell me his address. I want to confront him. I want answers. I want to know why he did it, why he looked at me with such hate, why he betrayed me. But then I remember his face. The way he hit me. The fury in his voice. What if he is the one I was running from? What if he wanted me dead? That kind of hatred doesn't appear overnight. And the fact that I still haven't recovered all my memories makes it worse. I have no full understanding of who I'm dealing with. There cou
"Honey, it's okay," Mr. Evans said gently from the kitchen as he poured water into a glass, his voice low and steady as he tried to calm Ella down. Liam and I stood by the doorway like toddlers caught with candy they weren't supposed to touch, frozen in guilt and tension."Honey, they need to know how they made us feel," Ella said, her voice rising. "I thought something terrible had happened. You saw the state of the car. The location it was found. Anyone would panic. And now they just stand there like nothing happened."Mr. Evans handed her the glass. "But look at them. They're here, aren't they? Nothing bad happened, clearly. They're standing right in front of us.""Standing like machines," Ella snapped, her eyes flashing. "Not a single word from them. Not even from Liam. No explanation. Nothing." She reached for the water, but before she could take a proper hold, Mr. Evans let go too soon.The glass slipped. It hit the floor and shattered with a loud crash. I heard the same sound,
A gasp slipped from me, my hands tightening around his shirt. My knees went weak. My body remembered him, remembered the way it felt when he touched me last night. Fire surged through my veins. And a moan slipped from my lips before I could stop it. And something in him snapped. Just as he was about to scoop me up, arms flexed with intent, we heard it."Sara!"The voice slammed into us like a bullet. Ella.Liam's body went rigid, his breath catching against my throat. I clung to him, stunned and breathless, the world tilting beneath my feet. "Sara, are you up there?" she called again, closer now.Immediately, he stepped away from me like he'd been yanked back into reality-like what had just happened between us was a fever dream he was trying to erase. But his eyes... they didn't lie. They stayed locked on mine, burning, conflicted, furious. He stared at me like he hated himself for wanting me. Then he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, ruined and trembling in the wreck
The car disappeared down the road, and the silence that followed felt heavier than any words Emilia could've said. I stood there for a moment longer, arms wrapped tightly around myself, the chill creeping in through the thin fabric of my gown. Then I turned. I didn't want to see him. But I had to. My bare feet made soft sounds on the wooden stairs as I climbed, every step louder in my chest than in the hallway. When I reached the top, he was still standing there-leaning against the doorway of my room. Waiting. Watching. His eyes locked on mine, unreadable at first. But as I got closer, I could see it. The storm behind them. Rage, confusion... and something else. Something raw. Something that burned. I stopped a few feet away. "I didn't plan that," I said, voice barely above a whisper. He didn't move. "But you didn't stop it either." I swallowed hard. "It wasn't what it looked like." He let out a bitter laugh. "Really? Because from where I stood, it looked like you were enj