Kinsley’s POV

“Go ahead, you can eat,” Conner says, ushering me to take something off the plate that’s been put in front of me. I push it aside, leaning back into my chair at the long, lavish dining table. “You’re only hurting yourself, Kinsley.”

“Stop saying that,” I snap. “Stop saying my name.”

“What should I call you then?”

His voice is on edge, like it has been for two days. I haven’t dared join him in a meal or accepted his reach of ...