Chapter Thirteen

Rory sank into her pillow, still smelling of butter popcorn and night air, her heart hammering against her ribs. She could hear the steady splash of Jim's laps in the pool below her window – a rhythm she'd grown far too familiar with over the past month. Sometimes she lay awake counting his strokes until Sam came home from his shift, pretending the ache in her chest was just worry for her brother-in-law's insomnia.

Through her open window, moonlight spilled across the hardwood floors of the master bedroom. It was too big, this room, like everything else in the Calabasas house Sam had insisted on buying two years ago. "Room to grow into," he'd said, squeezing her hand. But they hadn't grown into it. Instead, Sam spent more time at the hospital, and she rattled around the empty spaces ……