Chapter Eight

It was more the delicious aroma of sizzling roast beef than the sound of laughter wafting up from the kitchen that drove Arrin from his bed. He stumbled into the bathroom to splash warm water on his face and comb out his curly hair, which was lopsided on one side from sleeping on it wet. Straightening the rumpled scrubs he’d slept in, he headed downstairs for dinner.

When he stepped into the fully occupied kitchen, everyone applauded.

He came to a mortified standstill, his face burning. Only Peter could’ve told everyone he’d saved Rory. The traitor! He shot him a scathing glare, but Peter only smiled and shrugged, unrepentant.

He waited for the applause to die before filling a plate with some of the steaming roast beef, mashed potatoes, yeast...

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