~Bruno~
There she was. Grace is leaning against the marble kitchen counter, barefoot and dressed in one of my oversized shirts. She is gulping down a bottle of water as if she'd just run a marathon. She looks exhausted, her hair a messy halo around her face, but she is very much alive.
She lowers the bottle, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and jumps when she sees me standing in the doorway.
"You're okay," I rasp, moving toward her.
She signs something quickly, but yet again, I can't read the movements of her hands. I wonder why she won't just mind-link me anymore. Is it because of Vivian? There is no way she is still mad about *that*.
I reach out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, but she dodges my hand. With a cold efficiency, she grabs the peanut butter and bread, fixes herself a tea, and sits at the counter to eat in total silence.
