Rosalie
Georgia gripped the coffee mug in her hands, her dark hair disheveled and falling around her face. I had never seen her like this, so tired. So out of sorts. I didn’t even ask if she wanted more coffee as I refilled her mug, returning the carafe to the coffee maker and reaching into an upper cabinet, pushing aside several boxes of tea and grasping the bottle of whiskey Ethan kept tucked away.
I poured a liberal shot of it into her coffee, glancing into her downcast eyes.
I could hear Ethan and Talon talking in Ethan’s office, their voices carrying down the hallway and into the kitchen. Above my head, I imagine Kacidra, Hanna, and Rowan speaking about the same manner of things, their heads bent close together as they whispered their grievances in the guest room, the door only slightly ajar.
“There hasn’t been this many people in this house, ever,” I said, breaking the silence.
Georgia glanced up at me, a brief, somber smile twitching into view in the corner of her mouth.