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I still remember that chaos that was caused after I hurt my then-girlfriend shortly after my accident. I barely remember the feel of my fingers around her throat, but I know I did it. I remember the screaming and crying, and the sense of stunned shock that sat in my chest, unable to believe I was the one who caused it.

What if the same thing happened with Aspen? What if no one was around to stop me? I’d never forgive myself.

I duck my head and step out of the doorway. “You’re right, you should go.”

“I’m sorry, Dov. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I only want you to be happy here. Content, with us. You could be, you know, if you just give us a chance.”

She bites her lower lip and ducks her head. “I am, Dov. I’m trying. It’s just all been… a shock. And this place…” She lifts her hands then lets them flap back to her sides. “It’s not quite right, is it? You know that. Your father and brother know it, too.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I’m scared.”

At the fear in her voice, I cross the room in a matter of a few strides, and before I can think about what I’m doing, I wrap her in my arms. She stiffens initially but then lets out a shuddery sigh and softens against me. Her arms find their way around my waist and she presses her face to my chest.

I can barely bring myself to breathe, like if I do, it’ll shatter this illusion.

Even though I’ve touched her intimately before, it’s always been in the dark, when she’s been half-asleep. This feels completely different. I don’t feel like a creep or a weirdo. No, I finally feel like a whole man who she’s trusting.

She sniffles and wipes at her face. “Thank you, Dov. I needed that.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. If I do, I’m bound to ruin things. She’ll see that I’m not a whole person. That I’m a ghost she can’t rely on.

“I should go,” she says.

This time I let her leave.

She slips away, leaving only her scent behind her on the air.

I wait for a few moments, making sure she doesn’t come back, then I go to my door and slide the bolt at the top across. I go to my computer and touch the mouse to bring the screen to life, and type in the password.

The last search I’d done appears on the monitor: Local search of missing man…

I haven’t told my father that the police are searching for the boyfriend. From the news article, it’s unclear if they have any idea where he might have gone, simply that police are investigating several leads and appeal for anyone with information to come forward.

I take a deep breath and sit back. Will their search bring them to Windridge Hall? If they connect me with his disappearance, red flags are bound to be waved.

My brain refuses to see the steps in which the police might find their way here, however. Whenever I try, it’s like pieces are missing.

My only reassurance is that, right now, the police cannot reach Windridge Hall.

23

ASPEN

I wake to warm stickiness between my thighs and cramps across my stomach. Shit, my period must have started. No wonder I’d been feeling so off yesterday. I’d completely lost track of my cycle among everything else that had been happening.

At least it means I’m not pregnant. Not that I really had expected to be, but I feel the same way every single month since I’ve been sexually active—that mixture of annoyance and relief.

Pulling back the bedcovers, I groan for another reason. My blood soaks the sheets, and, from the volume, has probably wrecked the mattress, too. Damn it. It’s one thing making a mess of my own sheets, but it’s another ruining someone else’s. If the mattress is bad, it’s going to need cleaning and turning, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to do it on my own.

I also feel like shit. Another cramp twists my insides, wringing me out, and I can’t even bring myself to move. I just curl up on the bloodied mattress in the bloodied sheets, and wait for it to pass.

There’s a laundry chute down the hallway, one that was used for the hotel when it had lots of people staying and they most likely had staff changing the beds every day. It leads to a laundry room in the basement, but I haven’t needed to use the chute until now. I don’t own many clothes, so when I’ve needed them to be laundered, I’ve just carried the bundle down in my arms. But I can’t picture myself walking through the hotel with my bloodied pajamas and bedsheets in my arms. I’ll look like I’ve committed a murder.

I wince at the thought, considering what did take place in my room.

The cramp eases, and I drag myself out of bed and head into the shower. I take off my top but wait until I’m in the shower before removing my bottoms. I don’t want to get blood on the flooring. I’ll rinse the items out best I can in the shower.

The hot water soothes me a little. Do I have any painkillers for the cramps? I’m not sure I do. I’ll have to ask Blake if he has any, and then he’ll want to know what I need them for. I don’t want him making a fuss over me, but then I’m probably going to need him to help me flip the mattress, too, after I attempt to clean it. God, how embarrassing. I’ll try to do it myself, but it’s a double mattress and it’s thick and heavy.