“IT IS not until next fall,” Jeremiah reminded her.
His voice was low and steady, cutting gently through the anxious rhythm of Lily’s thoughts.
She sat curled on the couch in the main living room of the compound, her legs tucked beneath her, the admission letter spread carefully across her lap like something fragile and sacred. The Christmas tree still glowed behind her, filling the room with warm golden light. Outside the windows, snow drifted lazily past, turning the world beyond the clubhouse walls into something soft and harmless.
Inside, nothing felt harmless at all.
Not with Robert lurking somewhere out there.
Not with unknown numbers sending messages that made her heart stutter.
Not with her entire life hanging between two very different futures.
Lily traced the printed words
