Page 51 of None Of Your Business

Her family doesn’t know.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Rowan lunges forward. “I need to hide you.”

She grabs my forearm. For a woman who claims her joints are held together by a hope and a prayer, her grip is terrifyingly strong.

“Bedroom,” she orders, pointing down the hall like a drill sergeant.

“What the fuck—”

“Move your giant feet.” She pushes harder, throwing her entire weight against me.

The doorbell chimes.

“Hudson, please,” she begs.

Before logic can take over, my feet move. She steers me backward down the hall, opens her bedroom door, and points inside.

I look at the unmade bed, then at her. “You’re hiding me? Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“In your bedroom?”

“It’s not a plot twist I love either, Shrink Wrap. Get in.”

The doorbell rings again, followed by Piper’s muffled voice from the porch. “Ro? You in there?”

Rowan gives me one last shove. “Don’t breathe,” she whisper-hisses, then clicks the door shut and locks me inside.

I stand perfectly still, my keys still clutched in my fist.

“Piper! Hi!” Rowan’s voice rings out in the hallway.

“You look terrible,” I hear Piper say as they step inside. “What the hell happened to your head?”

“Tripped over a canvas in the studio and clipped the workbench.”

“Jesus, Rowan. Did you get checked?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Urgent care.”

Technically, there had been urgency… and care.

“Honestly, Ro. Only you could nearly knock yourself out walking around your own studio.”

Rowan laughs. It’s the most nervous laugh I’ve ever heard.

“You’ve been like this since you were five,” Piper says with a sigh. “Dad used to say he should’ve wrapped you in bubble wrap.”

“I’m fine. Do you want tea? I was just about to make some.”

Their footsteps muffle as they move toward the kitchen.