The pressure no longer came from one direction.

It arrived in overlapping waves that left Elena with less and less unmarked space inside her own days.

Monday morning began with a text from Jordan that landed before Elena had finished brushing her teeth.

I’m done waiting for you to make time. I’ll be at the coffee shop at 11. If you don’t show, I’m coming to the house. I mean it.

Elena stared at the screen until the words blurred. Under the soft shirt she had slept in the lower bruises across her ribs ached in a dull continuous line. Between her legs she still carried the load Marcus had...