Remington didn't opt for boiling water but instead warmed up a cup of milk for Lizetta.

He walked back into the living room, placing the warm cup between Lizetta's icy hands, his large palms covering her cold ones. "Take it slow."

The lights in the living room felt too soft to Lizetta, casting a gentle glow in the man's amber eyes, making them appear overly tender.

She averted her gaze, withdrawing her hands from his. "Thanks for tonight, but why are you here?" she asked, sipping the milk and looking up at him.

Remington had been hanging around downstairs every night for the past few days, sometimes leaving in the middle of the night, other times just sleeping in his car. No matter how late it was, he made it a poin to visit; otherwise, he'd find it hard to sleep back at Oakridge Heights.

He was glad he came early today, but he had promised Lizetta he wouldn't bother her until Stella had left.

Changing the subject, he said, "You're sweating bullets. Let me get some water for you to wipe off."

He fetched a bowl of warm water and a warm towel, leaning in to wipe Lizetta's face for her. Lizetta had just put down her half-drunk milk.

"I'll do it myself," she said.

Remington paused, not insisting.

Lizetta took the towel, her phone in her pocket began to ring. She thought she had calmed down, underestimating the terror of childhood traumas. Her hand shook, dropping the

arms, forcibly keeping her shoulders still, and

tense skin, bringing a

he wiped her hands. The ringtone continued; Lizetta finally snapped back

Yolanda calling, but as Lizetta touched the screen, the call had just timed out, automatically hanging up. The phone unlocked itself with

screen was still on

with Cedric,

Lizetta's fingertips touched it,

played. Aman's deep voice filled

We

Lizetta. She then frantically tried to stop the video.

did she feel guilty? As if she was secretly spying on him, paying attention to him, when that wasn't

Lizetta could regather her thoughts, the video stopped,

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