Ethan didn’t mention the locked door the next morning.

He just watched me more than usual.

I felt his eyes while I poured coffee. While I moved around the kitchen. While I sat across from him at breakfast and tried to eat toast that tasted like nothing. Marcus stayed at the stove longer than necessary, back to us, but I could feel the weight of him in the room. Every time I shifted in my chair I felt the dull ache between my legs from the night before. Proof. Consequence.

“You okay?” Ethan asked suddenly. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Just tired.”

He nodded, but the look didn’t leave. Soft. Searching. The...