Lana’s P.O.V.
It was 12.30h in the morning. I had just gotten home from working in the bar, and had decided on making myself something to eat to get my mind off of things. If I wouldn’t be hungry anymore, by the time I was actually done preparing the meal, I would have made my food for the next day. The decision was still up for debate really. But by cooking, I was keeping myself busy. I didn’t understand why, but I had been feeling restless all day today. It felt as if I was walking on eggshells resting on top of bubble wrap. And only a part of my worries had fallen away, once Jamie had sent me a text, telling me that he was actually OK. Even though he hadn’t told me what this dangerous case was all about, I could still see the worry in his eyes when he had talked about it to me. This wa
