Every Promise Broken (Copper Lake #5)

3

Whit Bowman

M y heartbeat is a rapid pounding in my ears as I follow Conrad into this room. His childhood bedroom turned guest room. White shiplap walls surround a queen-size bed and an empty desk in the corner. A wrought-iron sign hangs on the wall above the bed that says ‘Be Our Guest,’ and I don’t know who picked out that sign, but it certainly wasn’t Conrad.

Coming out of the bathroom and finding him standing in the living room was jarring, to say the least. It was about the last thing I would’ve expected. Now, as we stand in the middle of this room, I don’t quite know what to do. My stomach is clear in my throat, making it hard to breathe while Conrad’s deep brown gaze stays fixed on my face. Even though I can’t find it in me to meet it.