“You fed the chickens and got their eggs? Did any of them try to peck you?”

I grinned. “They were far more interested in food. Here.” I poured coffee into a mug, and a little of the half and half Shay preferred. “Drink this. You’ll start to feel human again.”

She sank onto a stool at the island and took a long sip of coffee. “I haven’t slept that late since I was a teenager.”

“You needed it.” Shay had wrung herself dry yesterday. I didn’t know how it hadn’t happened sooner. Or maybe it had, and she simply hadn’t had anyone around to catch her when she fell. “Who in your life knows the truth?”

She blinked up at me. “About Michael?” I nodded. “My aunt. Caelyn knows something bad happened with someone in my family. And Evergreen.”

“Evergreen?”

A hint of pink hit Shay’s cheeks. “I don’t know her real name. We just go by our screen names with each other. We met on a forum thread talking about how to unofficially disappear. We hit it off. For a long time, she was my only real friend.”

“But you don’t know who she really is…” It seemed a little reckless. Divulging so much to a complete stranger.

Shay’s lips pressed into a firm line. “We both know enough about each other to find out the other’s identity. But we haven’t. It’s a respect and trust thing. She’s had her own hardships. I’ve never had anyone understand what I went through more than she does.”

“I’m glad you have her, then.” If this Evergreen made Shay feel less alone, then I was on board.

The buzzer on the oven dinged, and I pulled out the frittata. Shay let out a low whistle. “Why the hell have I been doing all the cooking around here if you can make that?”

I chuckled. “I have mastered this, grilled cheese, and steaks and baked potatoes.”

“A well-balanced diet.”

I pointed the potholder at her. “Hey, there are tomatoes in this. That’s a vegetable.”

Her mouth curved. “Technically, they’re a fruit.”

“Smartass,” I mumbled. My phone buzzed from where it was plugged in on the kitchen counter. I swiped it up.

Carson: Have you seen this? What the hell happened with her?

My blood turned to ice as I read the headline of the article Carson had included in his text. Inside scoop on ‘The Artist’ and how his reign of terror destroyed the art world’s golden boy. I opened the article, scanning the paragraphs. Lara had painted a picture, all right. One that questioned my mental state. She wove intimate truths and convenient lies into something that didn’t even resemble reality. And she hadn’t even bothered to do it off the record. Her name was there in black and white.