It had been five years since I last walked through the door of this house.
Five years since I left for college and vowed never to return.
And yet… here I was, suitcase in hand, heart pounding against my ribs like a warning.
“Clara.”
His voice. Deep. Controlled. Rougher than I remembered.
I looked up—and there he stood in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed over his broad chest, wearing a fitted black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Marcus. My stepfather. Or… technically, ex-stepfather, now that my mom was gone.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said, voice unreadable.
I swallowed hard. “I didn’t come for you.”
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, something electric passed between us—something I thought I’d buried long ago.
“Your room is ready. Upstairs. Same one.”
I nodded wit
