“You never mean to,” Sloane hissed. “Look at this mess. You’re disgusting.”
There was a scraping sound—a chair being dragged violently across the tile.
I moved. I didn’t think; I just moved. The distance from the hallway to the kitchen felt like miles, my heartbeat slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I stopped in the doorway, and the scene before me shattered every illusion I had built over the last two years.
