Wildfire (Maple Hills, #2)

by Hannah Grace

When I was younger, I always strived to be the best, to know the most, like somehow the validation of being the perfect daughter would give me the type of attention from my parents I craved so desperately, but it never came.

“I’m scared to have the things I want in case I fuck them up, because you’ve made me believe I’m a fuckup—and I hate you for that. I hate you for being everywhere and nowhere all at once.” “I understand.” “You’re like a weed. There isn’t one aspect of my life you haven’t invaded and ruined. I couldn’t even get through the summer without you corrupting it. I don’t speak to you. I don’t even read your messages anymore and you’re just there in my head constantly.”