Chapter 10 Is Not Over

Alicia Davenport I sank deeper into the couch, my spoon lazily swirling through the melting ice cream in the bowl—technically, Daniel’s ice cream, but at this point, what was his was mine. Three days had passed since I first told myself I’d stay for only one night. Three days of ignoring my phone, of refusing to deal with my parents, of pretending the world outside didn’t exist. I didn’t want to go home. Because I knew exactly how that conversation would go. My parents, with their calm but firm voices, would say they were only thinking about what’s best for me, that this is what’s best for the Davenport name, and that I’d understand one day. But I did understand. I understood that their version of "what’s best" had nothing to do with me and everything to do with our family’s reputation and power. The front door clicked open, snapping me from my thoughts. I glanced up just as Daniel stepped in, looking tired from work. My gaze instinctively dropped to the plastic bag in his hand,