Eleanor’s POV.

“I think this is it,” I say, smiling over my shoulder at Paul as I slide the key into the lock.

Paul’s been silently observing me since I climbed eagerly into the car promptly at five. I knew he was examining my swollen, bloodshot eyes, fighting against the urge to ask me what had happened while we were apart.

There had been so many times I had reached for my phone. I was still mentally reeling from my mother’s sudden ...