MARION

Demetria laid across my chest, fingers absentmindedly stroking the lines of my collarbone. There was no sound except the crash of the ocean beyond the glass walls and the slow rise and fall of her breathing.

“When my Nanna died… everything shifted,” she whispered.

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I just dragged my hand through her hair gently and waited. My instincts screamed to ask questions, but something in her tone warned me: push, and she’d close.

“She raised me,” she ...