Don’t think about it. There’s a deluge forming against a dam. It’s been building for a long, long time. I’ve never really talked about my father’s death. I avoided the topic, and if it came up, I’d say, “It was a long time ago.” Which is bullshit, really. It’s like I told Paige up in that tree. I just pretended like I was okay, but I wasn’t okay. Not then, and not now. I never got over his death. And I never will. Society gives us timetables. Oh, you can be sad for this much time. And you can be angry for a little bit here. But then you move on.

What does moving on look like? What does it even mean?

I lost my father, my guardian, my entire family that day. There is no next for me.

My wet clothes fall into a soggy heap on the white tile. I step beneath the burning spray of the shower. It stings from where my skin has gone chilled and numb. Sometimes it’s worse to feel anything at all. I lean back and slide down the wall to the floor. There’s no tomorrow. College. A job. It still doesn’t matter. Paige was right about that.

I cover my face with my bloody hands and cry.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A fire crackles in the hearth. It sounds real. It looks real. It probably feels hot to the touch, but I’d bet it’s one of those gas fireplaces. Or maybe electric. With those logs made out of ceramic and sculpted to look like wood. No actual branches burn here.

I take a painful step into the room. Another.

Firelight traces the stark planes of his face, making him look more severe. He does not turn when I come into the room. Nor when I sit in the armchair opposite him. If he’s going to fire me, I might as well be seated in this plush leather cushion while he does it.

“Hi,” I say.

He casts a sardonic look my way. “How are your hands?”

“Fine,” I lie, even though they’re burning. I don’t bother showing them, because they’d only disprove the point. They don’t even compare to how much my ankle hurts. Thankfully he didn’t watch me walk in with a limp. “I took a couple Advil, so I feel better.”

He doesn’t seem like he believes me. He also doesn’t seem like he cares that much. His sherry-colored eyes manage to look cold. “So, your parents died when you were a child as well?”

I flinch. Maybe I should have expected this line of questioning. I knew he heard me talking to Paige, but I assumed he’d fire me and be done with it. “Yes.”