CHAPTER 4 | Ellie
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A door slams and I open my eyes, blink. There are footsteps on the stairs and for two seconds I’m confused because Wren isn’t supposed to be home. She was going to stay at that bed and breakfast with Tate. I must be hearing things. I must be—car keys jingle as they’re slung across the kitchen counter and I snap upright.
It is Wren! I launch out of bed and run—head throbbing—down the hallway just in time to see my sister stomp into our bathroom and slam the door behind her.
I jiggle the handle and, in answer, Wren turns on the shower. “Please, Wren? Can we talk? I want to apologize.”
Nothing.
“Please?”
Still nothing. I lean my forehead against the door and tell myself I have no business getting teary. It’s my fault Wren isn’t speaking to me, but I can’t hel
