Page 151 of Unexpected Heroine

And I don’t mean the tea that Freya gave me tonight.

“Knock, knock,” Freya chirps from near my bedroom door.

“Come on in,” Stella answers when I don’t.

She’s on the bed with me. I don’t know what she’s doing since my back is to her. Reading maybe. Plotting world domination is another solid possibility.

At least I’m not alone.

Not in body, anyhow.

Freya squats by my side of the bed, bringing herself to my eyeline. “Hey, I got you something.”

“No thanks,” I answer automatically.

She frowns and holds up a bottle of water, giving it a little shake.

After my stomach calmed down enough to break away from the commode, I washed my mouth out and brushed my teeth with tap water, which I got for myself by cupping my hand under the faucet. Turns out, the only liquid I’ve consumed today is what I could get from my hand to my mouth.

Too fucking scared to drink from a cup.

Pathetic, Lettie.

In no way do I think that Freya would drug me. That’s asinine.

Yet I couldn’t accept a drink from her. Stella either.

I wonder if I can drink something if I pour it myself. However, I decided to just crawl up into a ball of depression in bed instead of trying to find out. Not sure I can stand another disappointment. Learning I’ll soon be dying of thirst—quite literally—isn’t on my to-do list today. If I can’t even trust my own hand to pour, it’s gonna be curtains for me.

Oddly enough, I never had trouble drinking anything he poured for me. Not sure why this new fear has cropped up out of nowhere, but it’s here, nonetheless. Waving a big, fat flag in my face to remind me how broken I am.

“It’s sealed,” Freya says, wiggling the bottle closer to my face.

If it’s never been opened, it’s safe to drink, right? Hope—the ugly stepsister of my emotions lately—taps at the cellar door where she’s been cowering for days, begging to be set free.

“Where did this come from?” I narrow my eyes at Freya. “We never used to have bottled water here.”

When I moved in, Freya practically made me sit through a PowerPoint presentation on the water bottle crisis.

She tips her head toward the other room, her silky black ponytail flopping over her shoulder. “Deb brought a case in a few minutes ago.”

“Really?” My nose wrinkles. “Why?”

Oh my gosh. They must have told her about my freak-out. Terrific. Someone else to bear witness to my steady descent. I’ve become the poster child for humiliation.

I sit up in bed, swing my feet onto the floor, and take the water bottle from her.

Fuck it. I can do this.

I will do this.

“Hang on, Lettie. Don’t open it yet,” Stella orders, darting out of the room.

My pulse spikes as I watch her go, but then I remind myself she’s coming right back. Plus, Freya is with me.

And that I’m a grown fucking adult with opposable thumbs and a somewhat functioning brain.

To distract myself, I return my attention to Freya and the water bottle mystery. “How did my bodyguard know to bring a case of water here?”

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