“You know…” Luke looks up at me from the computer. He has long eyelashes for a man. “A security system isn’t a bad idea. I just put one in for my mother. It was easy, and now I feel like she’s a lot safer.”

Gloria shoots me a look as if to say, See? I told you that you need an alarm system. And also, Luke is such a wonderful son to his mother—don’t you want to go out with him?

I smile thinly. “I’ll think about it.”

I won’t think about it. I am perfectly fine the way I am.

Chapter 17

TRICIA

Present Day

I manage to sleep through the entire rest of the night, and according to my watch, it’s almost nine o’clock when I wake up the next morning.

Ethan isn’t in the bedroom anymore, but there’s a piece of paper on his side of the bed. It’s a note for me. He scribbled in black ink: Making breakfast downstairs. Didn’t want to wake you.

He’s so thoughtful.

I reach for my purse that I left on the nightstand. The first thing I do is grab my phone—still no service. I wonder if Ethan had better luck. I doubt it.

I do a few stretches in the bed, then I force myself to get up. I walk over to the gigantic window near the bed and stare out at our surroundings. Oh my God, there is a lot of snow. Everything is covered in a thick blanket of white. Every tree, every bush—the road we took to get here is decimated by snow. I’m sure the BMW is probably just a big lump of white at this point.

We aren’t getting out of here soon. That much is certain.

I have to make the best of this time. I can’t bring myself to take a shower in that bathroom, but I brush my teeth with my finger using what I assume is three-year-old toothpaste. It makes me feel a little better.

My honey blond hair is a complete rat’s nest after last night. I splash some water on it, then do my best to comb it out using my fingers. There’s a hairbrush on one of the shelves in the bathroom, which still has a few dull red strands in it. I’m not touching that hairbrush. My fingers will have to do the trick.

I throw on my jeans and blouse from last night as well as my socks, which are dry but slightly crusty. It does seem a bit of a shame to be wearing my old clothing when there’s an entire walk-in closet filled with designer outfits in approximately my size, but I’m not touching any of that stuff. It’s too creepy.