Sterrin and Trevor, Tuesday night.
Sterrin had worked herself into a lather. Was Declan ever going to stop being a baby about this shit? She'd come home yesterday finally only to find him refusing to speak to her.
She was tired of being treated like a villian in her own home, especially over Callan Fuckin' Mcleod.
She'd gone up to swim in the pool and hadn't stopped until her arms were sore, but she was still irritated. She didn't want to go home again.
Taking the elevator, she went down to the third floor and knocked on Trevor's door, still wet, in a bikini with a towel wrapped around her and a pair of black flip flops.