He stopped at my side, and I couldn’t stop shaking as I washed the dish.

“And you’re off playing,” he said, pushing me in the head.

I stumbled to the side. “Martin…”

“You don’t listen to anything I say.” He dug the tips of his fingers into my skull and shoved again, and I almost dropped the brush. “Is it so hard? Just doing what I tell you to do?”

He pushed me in the head again like I was stupid, and I fell to the side, dropping the dish and brush into the sink. I waited for the slap, but he just grabbed my wrist and yanked me to the table.

Pushing me down in the seat, he grabbed a handful of the spaghetti and stuffed it to my mouth.

Tears swelled my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut, holding it back.

“As if we don’t have enough problems, you go and get a reputation for being one of their little whores,” he said, stuffing another fistful into my mouth. “Thinking you’re going to be one of them. Thinking you’re better and them thinking they’re better because they get to play with you like a toy!”

Spaghetti flew in my face, dirtying my glasses as he stuffed handful after handful at my mouth, the noodles pressing down my throat so hard I couldn’t breathe.

Silent tears streamed down my eyes. I twisted my head away, trying to spit it out, but he grabbed my face and squeezed my jaw to open me up again.

I couldn’t stop crying as I gasped for air. I couldn’t breathe, and I gripped the sides of the table, my teeth cutting the insides of my mouth.

I tried to think of my gazebo. If Will helped me build it.

How nice that might be someday.

Will and the gazebo… Will and the gazebo…

The breeze on my face was warm, and the leaves in the trees smelled like summer.

But as Martin yelled, and I gagged, spaghetti choking me, I couldn’t muster another single coherent thought.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t remember what Will looked like. What my gazebo looked like.

I didn’t have a gazebo. There was no Will Grayson.

There was nothing but this.

There was nothing but this.

Emory

Present

Wrapping the towel around me, I ignored the eyes I felt through the glass and grabbed the clothes Micah had brought, taking them to the privacy—hopefully—of the bathroom. Of course, there could’ve been a two-way mirror in there, too.

Stripping off my soaked boxers and top, I dried my hair as best I could with the towel, brushed with the brush I found on the sink counter, and dressed, pulling on my clean underwear I’d washed out last night and hung to dry on the shower door, someone’s clean boxers over them, and their button-down white Oxford.

I rolled over the shorts to make them fit and buttoned the shirt, rolling up the sleeves. If I had to guess, I’d say these clothes were Rory’s, since he was the smallest.

I still swam in both pieces of clothing, though.

Heading back into the bedroom, I sheathed my knife and stuck it into my breast pocket. I still had no idea how I got the knife. Whoever brought me here might’ve wanted me to be able to defend myself, but if they didn’t want me hurt, why the hell dump me here in the first place?

I had so many questions.

Turning my head, I spied the wall of antique sporting equipment I’d vaguely noticed but hadn’t inspected. Plenty of weapons on that wall. Cricket bats, old blades from rowing teams, and…

I walked over, grabbing the shadow box of old fish hooks. Flipping it over, I pried out the backing and set it on the table against the wall, picking out four hooks and taking them to the dresser where Aydin had left the bandages.

Sticking each hook through the gauze, I wrapped the bandage around my knuckles, fitting the ends of the hooks between my fingers to pinch them in place, while the sharp, curved ends reached out like claws.

I bit back my smile, wrapping the gauze around my hand like a glove, ripping it free from the rest of the roll, and tucking the slack into the bandage over my palm.

Balling my fist, I lashed out, hearing the claws cut the air. I wanted a weapon I didn’t always have to carry. Freddy Krueger glove, it was.

With my wet head, weapons, and glasses on, I left the room, keeping my eyes peeled in all directions.

I passed the secret door and kept walking around the landing, treading quietly down the hallway that I saw Taylor come out of yesterday when I’d arrived.

I hadn’t heard any more movement above me or in the walls since last night. Maybe it was critters.

I passed a couple of rooms—a bedroom and a nursery—and then I walked past an office before I came to a closed door, quietly reaching for the handle as I debated.

I wanted to know which rooms were what, which ones had windows, and who was settled where, but I also didn’t want to draw notice.

To hell with it.

I needed to know.

Gently, I twisted the handle, but then I heard grunts from the other side of the door and stopped, leaning my head in to listen.

Another grunt followed by a groan with muffled whispers, and I took a step back, releasing the handle.

That was undoubtedly Micah and Rory’s room.

Noted.

I trailed around the second floor, finding another dark bedroom with the sheets mussed, clothes on the floor, and a couple of more rooms freshly made up by the cleaning crew yesterday.

I stepped into one with a massive bed, an ornate hardwood headboard and footboard, and a large cushioned chair in the corner. Unlike most of the other rooms, this one wasn’t white or black. Earth tones and decorative lamps dressed the room, and I instantly felt cozy and warm.

If it wasn’t already taken, then it was mine if I was still here tonight. I checked the handle for a lock, but there wasn’t one, same as Aydin’s room, and there was also a mirror in here, too.

I could secure the door with a chair and hang a sheet over the glass. Just in case.

Walking to the window, I peered through the curtains, taking in the rundown courtyard below with dead leaves covering the patches of grass, the remnants of a fallen tree, and a fountain in the center of the drive that held a couple inches of rainwater that had now turned brown.

It was a mess compared to the inside of the house. There may be outdated décor, torn drapes, and peeling wallpaper, but it was clean in here.

For now.

I left the room and closed the door behind me, trailing around the rest of the second floor, opening every door, every closet, and looking out every window to get a lay of the land.

I headed for the stairs to explore the rest of the first floor, but a floorboard creaked above me, and I stopped, looking up to the ceiling.

Footfalls moved from my left to my right, the wooden floor whining under the weight of whoever was up there, and I swallowed the lump in my throat, turning around instead.

I followed the sound, checking the ceiling for an entrance to the attic, thinking perhaps Will was up there. I guessed that messy room I found was either his or Taylor’s, but that meant there was one bedroom still unaccounted for.

But I couldn’t find an entrance to an attic or one to a third floor.

Hmm. I was pretty good at finding the secret room. I still had one in Thunder Bay, now that I thought about it.

Heading downstairs, I inspected every inch of the bottom floor, spying Taylor in the gym again, but I scooted away before he saw me.