“It’s really not,” I said as my gaze crawled over the manicured, bare lawn and then the massive brick structure. “Your parents have a home. This is just a really big shell.”

He parked the rental in the center of the circular driveway, near the marble fountain that bubbled with water. Eyeing it, he smiled slightly. “I don’t think I’ve actually seen a house with a fountain in front of it in real life.”

I took a deep breath, nervous but determined. “I can do this.”

“You can.” He squeezed my knee gently. “You sure you don’t want me to come inside?”

“Yes.” I looked at him, smiling. Of course I wanted him in there with me. “I need to do this by myself.”

He settled back in the seat. “If you change your mind, text me and I’ll be right there.”

I leaned over, kissing him softly. “You’re amazing.”

His lips curved against mine. “So are you.”

Kissing him once more, I then opened the door and climbed out. If I stayed a moment longer, I would change my mind. As I shut the door, Cam stopped me.

“Just remember that whatever they say doesn’t change the fact that you’re a beautifully strong woman and nothing that happened was your fault.”

Tears filled my eyes and a steely resolve fortified my spine. “Thank you.”

Cam winked. “Now go do good things.”

Giving him a watery smile, I turned and headed up the wide stairs and across the porch. A fan in the ceiling stirred hot air and lifted a few strands of my hair. I raised my hand to knock and then shook my head. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the key. I didn’t need to knock.

The lock gave and with one more glance back at where Cam waited, I stepped inside my parents’ house.

Nothing had changed. That was my first impression as I quietly shut the door behind me. Everything was clean and shiny. There was no smell or sounds. Nothing welcoming about the cold foyer.

I walked under the golden chandelier and entered the former sitting room. “Dad? Mom?”

Silence.

I sighed as I passed white furniture my mom would have a shit fit over if anyone dared to sit in. I checked the dining room and then the living room. Finally, after checking out the study and then the kitchen, I headed upstairs.

The steps made no sound.

On the second floor, I headed toward the end of the hall, to the last door and pushed it open.

It was my bedroom—keyword being was.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

All my stuff was gone—my books, my desk, the posters and other little odds and ends I’d left behind. Not that it really mattered, but geez, nothing about this room would make anyone think I used to live in it.

“We packed your stuff up.”