Zerina's point of view

My chest heaved in fear, my palm still stinging from the slap I'd given Bianca. Oh, I'm so screwed if it's Father. What should I do?

I turned slowly, my head low. As I raised it up, my gaze travelled from his shoe, to his clothes and then to his face.

Relief washed over me and I couldn't help but exhale.

It wasn't Father.

It was Dave.

His tall frame filled the doorway, his sharp jaw and dark hair just as I remembered. The sleeves of his white shirt were ...