Clayton (Wildflower, #1)

by Rachelle Mills

“I don’t want to hurt her,” he whispers. “What about me?” I ask him back.

She can have him. He’s not worth my fight.

I sink into myself. I have never been up on anyone’s wall, on their nightstand, in their wallets, on their phones. Everything he’s done he has done first before me. I get the second round. Maybe I’m meant to be the B-side, the last thought in someone’s mind. Never really an option until plan A fails.

Why do I allow my belongings, myself, to get destroyed while I sit back and just watch, being a spectator at my own destruction?