He moves closer to the bed, and I could almost laugh if I didn’t feel so miserable. It’s like he’s afraid of me somehow. Like he’s approaching an animal he’s never come close to before. All I had to do was mention my period.

“Please, I can’t do it,” I whisper, crossing my arms over my abdomen. “I just can’t, Colt.”

“You know it’s not going to work that way.”

“Why not? I’m only human. I’m not a machine or a blow-up doll. I don’t feel well. I hurt all over. Can’t you try to get through to him?”

“Yeah, right.” He flings the blankets away before folding his arms. “You need to eat something. You can’t starve yourself to death.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do. But it’s not like I’m in a big hurry to spend time with you guys. Don’t act like you don’t understand why I’d feel that way.”

“You still need to eat. Come on. One more day. You just have to get through today and tonight.”

“So it seriously doesn’t matter that I’m begging you to help me?”

“I’m trying to help you, but you’re too stubborn to see it.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve been so helpful.”

“Look, I’ll try, but I’m not going to promise something I know is impossible, and denying him isn’t possible.”

I give up. All we’re doing is talking in circles—and I am hungry, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, seeing as how I didn’t have dinner last night. Not that anybody cared.

He waits while I get out of bed, then leads the way out of the room and down the stairs. I’m so tired, as I always am on the first day. Not that I would expect them to care, even if they could relate to the feeling. I go to the kitchen and sit at the table, not saying a word. Colt only clicks his tongue and mutters to himself as he passes me, then goes to the fridge and pulls out lunch meat, cheese, lettuce, and tomato. A loaf of fresh sourdough sits on the counter, and he pulls out a bread knife to slice it. That knife is so tempting. What I could do with that knife…

By the time he’s finished building two sandwiches, Nix joins us. He looks like he just got out of the shower. His hair is damp, the T-shirt sticking to his back like he didn’t quite finish drying off before he got dressed. “You feel like making one of those for me?” he asks his brother, jerking his chin toward the sandwiches.