Chapter 7: Her Things

Dane drove me down to the Merrow lodge on Thursday to collect my things.

I had asked him the night before, in the doorway of the guest room, with the door halfway shut.

I had asked for my own clothes, my own books and the locket my mother left me.

He said yes before I finished the sentence.

Neither of us mentioned the kitchen.

The lodge sat at the bottom of a long gravel drive with the porch light on in broad day.

Regan opened the front door.

She was wearing my robe.

It was the dark green silk one I had saved three months to buy.

"Oh!" she said, and flushed.

"Nannie, I'm so sorry. Mine was in the wash, and Colt said you wouldn't mind."

"Of course not," I said.

I let my eyes slide over the robe with no recognition.

Behind me, I heard Dane breathe in through his nose.

Inside, the lodge smelled like pine and Ernest's pipe tobacco.

Ernest stood at the kitchen counter in his cardigan with a mug of tea.

"Nan, my dear," he said, setting it down. "Alpha. This is a pleasure. Can I offer you something?"

"We're here for her belongings," Dane said.

"Naturally."

Colt leaned against the refrigerator with his arms crossed.

A bruise was coming up along his jaw, and he did not look at me once.

Ernest led us toward the stairs, and I let my eyes wander over the kitchen.

There was a shelf above the stove that I had passed every morning for twelve years.

It held a row of identical green tins.

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