"Here. You should apply this before it gets worse."
"Thanks, but I can do it myself," I said, taking the tube from him.
I dabbed the ointment onto my cheek with a cotton swab, hissing softly as the sting flared.
Just then, my phone buzzed on the counter. Cayden.
I hesitated before answering, sliding my finger across the screen.
"Where are you? I don't see you anywhere," he said, his voice slightly breathless, as though he'd been running. Beneath the urgency, there was a faint edge of reproach.
"Dennis brought me to a hotel," I replied evenly.
There was a pause. I imagined Cayden standing near the lake where Catherine had fallen in, his brows furrowing as they always did when something displeased him.
"Dennis? What are you doing at a hotel with Dennis?" His tone sharpened, irritation laced with something else.
The phone was on speaker. Dennis, now sitting cross-legged by the edge of the bed, perked up like a child overhearing gossip.
"Hiss—" I let out a soft gasp as the ointment stung again.
"What happened? Are you hurt? Which hotel are you at? Send me the address," Cayden demanded, his voice turning commanding.