Brock seemed like he wanted to prove something, show me another side of himself, but maybe I don’t want that. Maybe I want that dirty bad boy I remember so vividly, or so I think. Can I even trust myself with these memories? Who is to say I haven’t added hyperbole where necessary, filled in detai...
I snap upright in Storm’s bed. The house is dead quiet. I go to shake Storm, but he’s missing, only an indentation in the mattress to mark his presence. The sheets are still warm. “Storm?” I whisper, standing up and trying to make my way around the ...