-Blake West:
I didn't know what time it was when I woke up, but the light in the living room windows had that honey-thick glow, the kind that makes you feel like the world is soft and slow for once. I'd fallen asleep on the big floral couch in Aunt Lily's front room. It was a lumpy old thing, with one leg shorter than the others and throw pillows that didn't match, but it had cradled me like I was something worth holding. For the first time in what felt like years, I'd slept without nightmares.
The air in the house smelled like butter and onions and something sweet—maybe cinnamon—and someone was laughing down the hall. A big, throaty laugh that bounced off the walls and made me smile before I could help it. Larkin. I'd learned his laugh in just a few hours. He was loud, charming, too talkative, and impossibly easy to like.
