CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
I shot to the bathroom and emptied my stomach that had been filled with nothing. I stayed there, even after a tentative knock sounded at the door. Someone shuffled in, saw my ashen features through their drunken glaze and shuffled back out.
I held onto the toilet and rested my forehead against my arm.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, but it was long enough for Bryce to have regained control over himself. Or—that’s what I assumed when he entered the bathroom, silently locked the door, and curled around me. He rested his arms on both sides of me and dipped his forehead against my back.
Neither of us said a word, but the images flashed through me. I saw every single time where I had thought my home was private, where I was alone. And everytime my stomach rolled f
