Willow did not move for a long time after the door shut behind Zane.
She remained standing in the bathroom, palms braced against the marble counter, robe hanging loose at her shoulders. The light above the mirror was too bright and too honest. Her reflection stared back at her with eyes that looked older than they had yesterday.
Her wrists throbbed in a rhythm she pretended not to feel, and her heart beat in strange, uneven pulses, as if it kept remembering and forgetting how to function. She had kissed Zane. She had slept in his arms. She had let him inside her in every way she was not supposed to, and then she had pushed him away. Her ribs hurt from the whiplash of it.
