CHAPTER 16 —

Hospital lights make everything look slightly guilty. They’re honest in a way candlelight never is — too bright on the truth, too white on the face. Nicole woke to that white, her mouth tasting like iron and a little lemon cleanser.

The ceiling tiles were a cheap mosaic, the kind you notice when you can’t sleep because your brain is doing taxes and revenge and lullabies at once.

Camille watched her like someone guarding a flame. Her eyes were raw, ringed with coffee ...