“Landon?” Finnick Kamiński stares at me, bewildered, but he smiles nonetheless. “What are you—” I push off his 4Runner and toss him the reason for my headache. “This is yours.” He catches it with ease and stares, puzzled. “What are you doing with this? I thought I gave this to—” “Julianna, yes. She doesn’t need it anymore. It’s washed.” I’d be damned if I returned it back with her scent. Realisation settles on his face, as does a smug smile. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”
