—a woman I didn’t recognize, sprawled across the faded quilt, one arm flung over her eyes like she owned the place. She startled upright when she saw me. “What the hell—?” she snapped, then squinted. “Who are you?” For a split second, fear gave way to something hotter: disbelief. “I could ask you the same thing,” I said, my voice shaking despite my effort to keep it steady. “This is my house.” She laughed. Actually laughed. A sharp, dismissive sound. “No, it’s not,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve been staying here all summer.”...
Continues…