"T-Thank you…" Georgia finally murmured, the words catching in her throat like thorns. She kept her gaze down, twisting her thumbs at the hem of the oversized shirt, her voice barely audible over the pounding guilt in her chest.
Nick let out a loud, theatrical sigh, the kind that screamed disappointment. He made sure it was long enough to sting.
Without a word, he stood, crossed to the dresser, grabbed the bottle of water, and twisted the cap off with a sharp snap.
As he drank, he locked eyes on Georgia, who looked like she wanted to crawl under the bed and disappear. She fidgeted, her posture tense, her face flushed with shame.
Then, with venom-filled sarcasm, he snatched up his radio and spoke into it.
"Evelyn, you can come in now. The princess is done with her royal tantrums," he said, each word dipped in mockery.
Georgia winced, biting her lip, and turned her back to him, hoping the floor might just open and swallow her whole.
