Rosalie

Ethan rose early in the morning, several hours before I finally roused myself and traveled downstairs for a cup of coffee and one of Gretchen’s breakfasts. Georgia and Talon had already left for Gemma’s house, and the house was quiet, save for the sound of the washing machine running downstairs in the garage.

I tapped my fingers on my coffee mug as I moved from window to window in the living room, staring out at the ice-covered inlet with interest. ...