McGovern. McGovern. His name became a drumbeat in my chest, a welcome distraction from the clusterfuck my existence had become six years ago when my unbending, principled twin brother had unwittingly chucked a grenade under his life. I was still lying flat over that fucker. Every damn day. But staring at the blond-haired, blue-eyed dreamboat across the way made it easier for the long seconds I got away with it.
