Remy breathes out slowly, assessing the finished product. “Right. To the victor.” “Those stars are cool,” Tristian adds. “I like how they look like they’re hanging by a thread.” Remy follows his gaze, pushing his wild, platinum hair out of his eyes. “That’s so the baby always knows how to get home, even when it’s dark.” He whips around, facing me. “Nightmares get in your head sometimes, Lex. You have to be watchful.” His stare is almost too intense—seeking and pleading. “You’ll watch him, right? Make sure he doesn’t turn green? Because my mom,” Remy’s eyes flick to Wicker, “she gave that to me
...more
