How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

She was always quiet, keeping mostly to herself, and with him, she was nothing if not politely distant.

Joseph pressed his lips together. "Glad to hear it."

Elodie turned to glance at him. "Is there anything else you need, Mr. Delacroix?"

He caught her meaning and shook his head. "No, that's all. I'll leave you in peace."

After he left, Elodie lingered a while longer, enjoying the solitude. Nights like this, when everything was still, were surprisingly comforting. As the hour grew late, she finally got up, ready to head back into her tent.

The moment she stood, she heard footsteps nearby, and the faint glow of a lantern flickered through the darkness.

A woman's voice, soft and edged with laughter, floated over. "Is this your tent?"

Elodie looked toward the sound.

Sylvie stood arm-in-arm with the tall, broad-shouldered Jarrod. He ducked inside the tent first, with Sylvie following close behind. They disappeared together into the same tent.

They're sharing a tent...

Elodie's gaze flickered, the realization catching her off guard. She hadn't expected that—especially with Jarrod knowing she'd be staying here tonight. He didn't even try to avoid her.

Her fingers tightened around her thermos. She turned and headed back to her

own tent.

tents were more like luxury suites, complete with soft

was

notice it was already empty-the beds were perfectly made, as if no one had slept there

it and caught the shuttle to

Elodie felt herself relax for the first time

stalls, chatting on the phone. "How

other end said something

her amusement. "You and my brother

in the middle of the night? Oh, I

realization sinking

stayed here last night

weren't private enough for...well, for whatever couples in love get

lovers always a

was the only explanation

a moment, then made her way back to

as calm and composed as ever. It was something she'd forced

retreat would last until

she finally came downstairs, she learned that Jarrod and Sylvie had already

found her presence