Back then, we were just a couple of dirt poor teenagers who had nothing except for our friendship. I wanted it to be more and one night I made my move. Everything was perfect then, but perfection is fleeting. For one brief shining moment, everything was beautiful, but an inconceivable nightmare sent us straight to hell…to depths from which we could never return.
I left our hometown—a place she once called paradise—to flee the aftermath of that brutal event that broke us so completely. I left her behind to pick up the broken pieces of her soul that had shattered irreparably. And now, I'm going back to face the wreckage that I thought I'd put behind me—my father's gruesome legacy, the trauma of our past, and the girl who survived it all without me by her side.
She hates me now for leaving her behind and I don't blame her.
I don't blame her, but I want her.
I want her, even though I know I should stay away from her.
I could be dangerous.
I am my father's son, after all.
Content Warning: This book contains brief scenes of violence and is premised around a theme of trauma and healing.
Just like that, the spitfire herself appears, walking right up to where we stand beside the black SUV. I turn to look at her with a smug grin on my face, but I struggle to keep it there as my eyes fall on her features.
The hurt shown in Avalon's expression is the first thing that registers for me. It's anger she's projecting, but it's pain that fuels her. She stops about three or four feet in front of me when I turn to face her fully.
I kind of want to be an a$$hole given the way she's so actively ignored my attempts at communication over the years, but there's a strange emotion brewing beneath the surface that I can't quite place. It's an emotion that makes me think better of being a straight-up piece of $hit and telling her off right now for her consistent avoidance over the years.
Sentimentality, maybe?
Whatever it is, it wipes away the grin, instead forcing a small, tight smile across my cheeks as she approaches. "Avalon," I keep my voice reasonably pleasant, "great to see you—"
"What are you doing here?" She puts her fists on her hips, jutting one out to the side.
F*¢k me.
She's a tangible memory—a recollection of my youth that I could physically reach out and touch. She looks older and there's a little extra meat to her curves, but the stance, the expression, the voice, the f*¢king hair, and the shorts that hug her closely…g*ddammit. I thought I'd forgotten the details, but they're quickly coming back. She just blew back into my life like a sweet f*¢king summer breeze.
Brynn resides in the Midwest with her husband and sons, whom she expects will someday be embarrassed by their mom's books. When she isn't obsessively writing, you may find her binge watching favorite shows while eating far too much junk food or fanatically reading, always seeking to lose herself in the emotional roller coaster of a damn good story.
She is quite the idealist, despite her fascination with the wicked and warped aspects of humanity. Some of her stories may run out of words before a happily ever after, but she's a firm believer that her characters continue to live on outside the pages in the minds of her readers. Stories don't end just because there aren't anymore pages to turn.
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Sounds like a really emotional read.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a great book, thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteGreat cover! Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteSounds really great
ReplyDeleteSounds really great
ReplyDelete