Page 96 of Unleashed

I’m fucking exhausted. Drained emotionally and physically. So tired I should have passed out before my head even hit the pillow.

Instead, I’m lying on a bed in one of Trevor’s spare rooms, staring at the ceiling.

I wonder if he’s still downstairs working. He left the office earlier than normal today because of me. Does he now have to stay up late to make up for it?

The possibility makes me feel sorta bad.

“Fucking hell.” I flip the covers off and swing my legs over the edge of the mattress. I swear, this man gets me out of bed more than he gets me into one.

Grabbing my favorite robe from the ornate brass fixture mounted to the back of the door, I stuff my arms into the sleeves as I exit and walk down the hall.

I pause to check on Zara as I go, ensuring she’s still sleeping soundly in her bed. It’s bizarre to see everything from her room in a different location, but it does seem like the familiarity of her own furniture has helped my sister feel less discombobulated by this sudden move.

She’s happily snoozing away, and I continue down the hall, stopping to confirm Trevor isn’t actually also asleep, before quietly making my way downstairs.

The first time I came to Trevor’s house, it felt like a museum. Sterile and echo-y. A place meant for looking at, not for living. But I must’ve just not been used to it, because already his home feels more comfortable. Less intimidating. I no longer worry if I smudge a surface or bump a table. The sofa actually felt cozy when I curled up on it after dinner, and the water pressure on the shower in my bathroom is freaking divine.

Staying here for a little while definitely won’t be a hardship.

There’s a soft glow coming from Trevor’s office, serving as a beacon for his location. I creep toward the doorway, listening for any sign of what he’s doing in there. Not because I’m being nosy. Just because I’m... Being nosy.

But it’s quiet. Nothing besides the tapping of the keyboard and the clicking of a mouse as I finally step into the open doorway.

Trevor looks up at me almost immediately. Like he was expecting me.

“Do you have cameras in here?” I remember how Titus watched Mariah move through his house, so I probably should have considered that as a possibility before now.

Trevor’s lips curve into a hint of a smile. “Yes, but they’re not on.”

So he wasn’t expecting me because he saw me closing in then. Could it be he wasn’t expecting, but maybe… hoping?

Trevor scoots back from the desk. “Come here.”

There’s something off in his tone. A softness that has me on edge. I’m not the sort of girl people are usually gentle with. I’m all sharp edges and biting teeth. It doesn’t matter how carefully you hold me, you’re probably still getting hurt. So I’m understandably skittish as I round his desk, not quite knowing what’s coming.

As soon as I’m within reach, he tugs me onto his lap, pulling me close. Burying his nose in my hair like he did this morning, Trevor closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“What’s wrong?” Something has to be wrong. The only time I’ve ever seen Trevor act like this was when we discovered my laptop had been switched. “What happened?”

He takes another deep breath before slowly lifting his lids, meeting my gaze. “Your mother died.”

I’ve known those words were going to be said to me at some point. Probably sooner rather than later. I was expecting them to come from a social worker, or maybe even a police officer.

Never once did I expect to hear them in the quiet of a million dollar home, tucked safely in the arms of someone I trust.

“Oh.” I’m silent for a second. “Do you know when?”

“About six months ago. Heidi is sending her death certificate over tomorrow.”

I sit with the news for a minute, trying to decide how I feel about it. If I feel about it.

I don’t have love for my mother. Never have. She wasn’t someone I could trust or look up to. She was never a safe place for me or an ally I could count on.

I also always felt like if there was anyone in this world a person could trust, it should be their mother. And since I didn’t have that, there would never be—could never be—anyone I trusted. Anyone who was a safe place for me. Anyone I could count on.

I was wrong.

Trevor reaches up, stroking along my cheek with the back of his fingers. “I don’t know what to say.”