18- Isabel

I didn’t see anything. Couldn’t hear anything. I was walking out the door like a scared little chicken, too overwhelmed by what Boston had just shared to function properly. And let’s face it, I was Isabel Watson, the bumbling blonde with coordination issues and a surprisingly long streak of bad luck. That was my only explanation for what happened next.

My shoulder hit the side of the doorframe and the impact jarred my teeth loose. It also jarred loose the teeth on my zip up sports bra. I spun in a full circle due to the impact, during which time my girls felt their restraints fall away and headed for a hasty escape as the zipper gave. My arms came up to cross over the front of my chest and I ran into another wall. This time the wall was Boston. His eyes peered down at me, looking so concerned it further melted that wall of ice I’d been trying to build around my heart. I wanted to look down to assess the situation, but I didn’t dare. It was bad. I could feel the sides of the bra poking