Sylvester shifts his body toward hers. “Stay here then, sweetheart. You’re more than welcome to stay here with me.” “Absolutely not,” I bark. My bones are ready to take on a life of their own, and I’m not sure what will happen first—taking Sawyer out of here or wrapping my hand around the old man’s throat. “Can’t say anyone would find me then,” she agrees. She pats Sylvester’s hand, still resting in the same spot where she abandoned it. “I’ll think on it. But the room is spinning, and I can't see my thoughts right now.”
