I still don’t hear anything coming from downstairs, so I take the chance of going down slowly, one step at a time, listening hard all the way. By the time I’m at the bottom of the staircase, I haven’t heard anything to discourage me from trying to get through the front door. It doesn’t come as a huge surprise when the knob won’t turn—and I don’t have a key for the special bolt that’s been engaged.

I’m not going to give up. There has to be another way. The back door? I don’t remember ever seeing a special lock on the door leading from the kitchen to the patio. When I head in that direction, I look up the stairs, expecting to find someone staring down at me. That doesn’t happen, but that doesn’t mean I’ll take my time getting to the kitchen, starting down the hall with my heart in my throat the whole time.

The sight of my stepbrothers sitting at the island, both eating cereal, kills that idea. I should have known better. Frustration threatens to bring tears to my eyes, but I fight them back.

Colt lifts his chin in acknowledgment of my entrance. There’s nothing in his posture or the look on his face to suggest anything that happened last night, or the fact that he spent hours holding me in bed. It’s almost enough to make me wonder if I imagined the whole thing.

“Good morning. Here, have some breakfast.” He pushes the cereal box my way, even though I haven’t yet taken a seat. I don’t know that I will, either.

Nix reads my hesitation right away. “He’ll be out all day.” There’s no need to explain who he’s talking about. “He said he has back-to-back meetings.”

My relief is enormous, though it doesn’t really change anything. He’s not here during the day? He’ll be back tonight. I’ve been granted a reprieve, that’s all.

Colt eyes me like he senses my thought process. “If you want,” he murmurs between spoonfuls, “you can hang around the house today. You don’t have to stay upstairs. You just can’t leave.”

“Wow, really?” Maybe I shouldn’t get snarky with him, but the way he said it is so condescending. I’m supposed to live here. This is supposed to be my house, too, but I’m being given permission to act like I live here. Does he expect my thanks?

“Whatever,” Nix mutters with a shrug. “You don’t have to. Just figured you might want to.”