I watched as Rowan took in the little sanctuary I called home, heat creeping into my cheeks as I followed his gaze around the room.

The evidence of my struggle yesterday was still on the bed, clothes scattered everywhere, and it looked too small to fit me.

“Nice home you got there,” he said, trying to make small talk, and I rolled my eyes. My place was the farthest thing from nice, with the peeling paint and walls so close together that they felt like they would collapse on me.

“Why are you here?” I interrupted, moving to sit on the bed. It was the only piece of furniture there,...