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But today, the shadows feel cold.
Three hours later, I’m at the public library. It’s my sanctuary. Books don’t have hidden meanings. They don’t laugh at you behind your back. I’m shelving returns in the fiction section when I hear footsteps.
When Liam looks at me, his eyes don’t linger. They pass right over, like I’m part of the furniture. A lamp. A rug. Jake’s little sister.
“Hayley?”
I feel a familiar twist in my stomach. Liam mumbles something I can’t hear, and they both laugh again. I want to go down there. I want to walk into that kitchen like I own it, pour myself a cup of coffee, and act normal. But normal is the problem.
