Allyson's POV
My pulse hammered against my ribs like a caged bird desperate for escape.
Reagan's voice drifted through the door, casual and unsuspecting.
"Morning, Dad."
The sound froze every muscle in my body. He stood mere inches away from discovering me in his father's bedroom, wearing nothing but Michael's shirt from the night before.
This could not happen. Not today. Not ever.
Michael moved with swift precision, positioning his body to block the doorway completely. His knuckles went white as he gripped the frame, every line of his posture screaming tension.
"Dad, why won't you let me in? What's going on?"
The suspicion creeping into Reagan's tone sent panic shooting straight to my throat.
Without thinking, I bolted.
The balcony doors beckoned like salvation. I slipped through them, pulling the sheer curtain closed behind me as quietly as possible. The morning air bit at my exposed skin, but I pressed myself against the wall anyway, hardly daring to breathe.
