Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“I wondered the same thing when I was a kid,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his joined hands. “How she could have left us with him. Miss Martha loved her so much, and I didn’t get how someone that lovable could have abandoned her children. But then I grew up with my father, and I understood what she might have done to escape. He never mentioned her—not like your mother did with your father. He took down all the pictures, removed every memory of her, and married MaryAnne a year later. It was like our mother never existed. She was just gone.” He paused, turning the envelope over in his hands again before holding it out to me. “I’ll give this back, but I want to read the letters. I don’t have anything like this of hers.”
I nodded, tears spilling over my cheeks, my heart twisting in my chest as I thought of what I would give for an envelope full of letters written in my father’s hand.
“He must have written her back,” I said. “But she probably destroyed them. Especially if they were hiding their affair.”
“I’ve been going through boxes of papers in the attic,” Ford said, “and I haven’t seen any letters.”
I nodded, not expecting there to be any. I rose off the bed slowly, crossing to the door. Only hours ago, I’d been so full of hope. I’d realized I’d been looking forward to finding Ford in my room after dinner, pulling off his clothes, drawing him under the covers. And now? Everything had fallen apart.
I turned the handle on the door and yanked. Nothing. No give, as if the door had fused to the frame. I laid my palm against it and pulled my hand back sharply at the icy burn—far too cold and wet. I stared. Frost. Crystalline blooms of frost across the white wood.
“What the fuck?” I whispered.
The chair in the corner creaked, and then Ford was beside me, running a finger down the door. “This isn’t just the heat being out, Paige. Someone locked us in here.” He shook his head, clearly bewildered. “The cold doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know how, but this is…” Gently nudging me aside, he yanked at the door again. Still nothing. “I think we should try yelling.”
“I don’t think anyone can hear us,” I said.
He eyed the door, pounding it with the side of his fist over and over. Between strikes, he shouted, “Help! Help! Is anyone out there?”
But there was no response. Tenn and Scarlett lived in this wing of the house, along with August, and Thatcher. So did Ford’s Aunt Ophelia, though she was out of town, but someone should have caught Ford’s pounding on the door. Heartstone Manor was big, but it wasn’t that big.
I turned to look around my room, searching for anything that would break the door down. It wasn’t like I kept a fireman’s axe in my closet, and these doors were solid wood. I didn’t have a screwdriver to go for the hinges. We were stuck until whoever was holding us here decided to let us go.
“I don’t think we can get that door open,” I said. “And I don’t understand why, but I don’t think anyone can hear us.”
Ford dropped his hands to his sides. “You’re right.” He eyed the door and then looked back at his phone.
“Still nothing?” I asked.
“Nothing. SOS, no Wi-Fi. I don’t think this is someone locking us in, Paige. I think this is something…else.”
I didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of else. It freaked me out. “What are we going to do?” I asked, watching more frost bloom over the door.
“You’re shaking,” he said, reaching out to lay a cold palm against my cheek.
He turned toward the bathroom, reaching for the taps, and shut them off within a minute.
“No hot water. It was worth a try.” He crossed back to me. “Clothes off, and get under the covers.”
“Clothes off?” I asked. The prospect of getting naked with Ford normally would have sent heat spiraling through me, but at that moment, in the icy air of my bedroom, watching frost grow on the door, I shook my head vigorously. “No way. Too cold.”
“Body heat,” he said. “Give me the blanket.”
He took the blanket from around my shoulders and spread it across my bed, grabbing a throw from the back of the armchair and spreading that on top.
“Come on. In the bed.” He reached for the hem of his sweater and pulled it over his head, baring his chest. “It’s too cold to argue about this.”
“Fine,” I agreed, knowing next to nothing about surviving in frigid temperatures. I wasn’t sure Ford knew anything either, but if I was going to freeze to death, I’d rather do it tangled up with Ford than standing here arguing. The second my shirt was over my head, my body shuddered from the frigid cold. The rest of my clothes came off faster, and I dove under the covers, Ford following, wrapping his long, icy limbs around me.