Riley's POV

The guest room feels like a foreign country.

I've been lying here for three hours, staring at shadows on the ceiling, listening to Brett pace his bedroom down the hall. His footsteps stopped about an hour ago, but I know he's not sleeping either.

My phone buzzes. It is a text from him: Can't sleep , are you okay?

I type and delete five different responses before settling on: I'm fine.

Three dots appear immediately, then disappear. Then appear again.

Finally: Liar.

Despite ...