{GIANNA}
My jaw drops.
I glance at Gracie, expecting some reaction, but she just keeps clearing the plates like she can't see or hear what's going on right in front of her. Frustration flares as I glare back at Michael and start walking away.
He follows, his grip on my arm not slacking one bit.
I storm up the stairs, fury bubbling hotter when I try to shake him off—once, twice—but he doesn't budge. We climb the stairs together, go down the hallway and into his room. The second we're inside, I try to wrench my arm free again, and he finally lets go.
I slam the door shut and turn the key, locking it.
Then I whirl on him. "What the hell is your problem? How do you expect Gracie to feel hearing you say stuff like that?" I snap, crossing my arms across my chest, rage boiling over.
