Jeremy dips his chin, gaze boring into me. And in my head, he’s six. Then he’s ten. Fourteen. Fifteen Sixteen… Seventeeneighteennineteentwentytwentyonetwentytwo— All these versions of Jeremy flashing through my mind—amber eyes searing through me from across a room. Golden blond hair haloing his head, spun silver-white as he got older and cut it, dyed it. Shy smiles and ducked gazes and hunched shoulders that turned into rogue grins and rolled eyes and stubborn juts of his chin. When did we grow up? We were seventeen and then it’s just a black hole—a horrible, awful black hole, with threads of
...more
