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One turkey sandwich turned into two. And I needed a side with those sandwiches, so I devoured an entire bag of SunChips. Then I washed it down with the best iced tea I’d ever had. I was sure I could taste lavender and lemon on my tongue. It had no business being as refreshing as it was, and after the hours I’d spent walking through the woods, I was thirstier than I thought. It wasn’t until I was done with my second full glass that I realized I’d put a nice dent in the pitcher.

The least I could do after my ungraceful binge was clean up after myself.

I washed the plate and utensils I used, content to grab my phone and get on about my evening. But then a glass dish on the far-end of the butcher-block counter caught my eye.

Cookies.

Just like that, my mouth watered at the thought ofsomething sweet.

Walking over to the dish, I peered down at the dessert, content to just look and not touch. But then I noticed what kind they were.

Blueberry cookies?

And—oh my god—they tasted really good. So good I ate two of them without thinking and fully tipped myself over the edge from satisfied to full as a tick.

A drowsiness set in when I replaced the lid on the glass dish and it was all I could do to make it to the couch without tripping over my feet.

I grabbed my phone along the way and went through the motions of setting a fifteen-minute timer.

I’d rest my eyes for fifteen minutes and then I’d be out of these people’s house. Long before they ever got home.

That was the plan. A cat nap and then get the hell out of dodge.

Except, I slept right through that alarm and the next time I opened my eyes it was because of the cold press of metal against my forehead.

I wishI could say this was the first time I’d woken up with a gun to my head, but I’d be lying. There was that failed robbery sophomore year of college in that dodgy off-campus apartment. Then there was the time a month after I started traveling in my van full-time when the cops woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me I matched the description of someone who had just robbed a convenience store.

Neither time had been fun.

However, at least then my body had woken up ready to fight. But right now? Right now, a thick fog clouded my brain and it felt like someone had just submerged my body in a tub of molasses.

I felt drugged, subdued, not like myself.

Like my brain and body were on two different pages. In two different books.

My fight or flight instincts were nonexistent, and all I could do was lay there and will my eyelids to open.

“Holy shit, Rome. The gun is unnecessary,” a male voice complained, the silky timbre doing more to rouse me awake than my own will.

“We could be harboring a fugitive. A fugitive who broke into our fucking house and you’re worried the gun is too much?”came a curt response, his voice dry and devoid of anything remotely pleasant.

A fugitive? That was dramatic.

But he was right, I had broken into their house. And now I was stuck in some zombie-like state on their couch.

Lord help us all.

A weird knot formed in my stomach.

“At least get it away from her head.” That sounded like a third voice. How many of them were there? And why couldn’t I just open my eyes to see?

“Would you want to wake up with a gun to your head?”

“If I broke into someone’s home and fell asleep, I’d say the owner had the right to wake me up anyway they pleased.”

Their bickering would have made me giggle if it wasn’tmethey were talking about.

A collective, exasperated sigh came from across the room.