The Slot: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance - Plot & Excerpts
Eloise screamed, her throat hurting from calling out for hours. “Sophia!” Cold. Wet. Inconsolable. Twigs snapped beneath her feet. A nefarious howl in the distance – splitting her ears in half. Only the wind, she told herself. Scared, so scared. She couldn’t see the path in the darkness, couldn’t see the naked branches that reached out to scrape her bare arms like witches’ claws. Hannah bawled her head off as Eloise dragged her in tow. “Sophia, where are you?” Her foot struck something solid, and she stumbled forward, falling against the cold stones of the bridge footings. “Ellie,” a tiny voice whimpered. Sophia. The name popped up in stark white on the phone’s tiny screen as Eloise rolled over and grabbed it off her nightstand. She was thankful to have been wakened from the awful dream and equally grateful that it was Saturday morning.
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