"We were just... you know. Talking," Mitchel stammered. "Yeah," Clint said, voice cold. "Talking." "Talking about what, exactly?" Christian added, equally venomous. Silence. Then Angeline spoke. "Getting back together." Christian dragged a hand down his face. "Wow." Clint gave a humorless chuckle. "The fuck." I glanced at Andi-her eyes glassy, lips trembling. And I felt it. Rage. Rage at myself-for giving her hope. Rage at Mitchel-for going back to the psychopath who tried to kill him. This wasn't just messy. It was a fucking storm. And we were all standing in the middle of it.
More details