Michael

Three hours later, in the dead middle of the night, I stand in the doorway leading into the cozy guest room I brought Faye into what must have been weeks ago. I guess that much time has passed since then. It feels like seconds, honestly. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to catch my breath since the moment she barreled into my life.

Now, she’s lying still and prone in the bed covered in at least six quilts–all thick and stuffed with goose down. A normal, warm-blooded person would be sweating profusely, but she’s ice cold.

I grip the doorframe, steadying myself as rage burns through my...