I run my fingers along the outer edge, reading the note scribbled right on top. Your cousin’s a bitch and your fix-it days are over. Time to fly. A low chuckle leaves me, and I open it up to find a pair of sunglasses sitting inside. I stare at them for a long moment, and then finally pull them from the box and slip them over my eyes. “Perfect fit.” I spin to find Royce leaning in the spot I just was, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes on me. The perfect fit. I take a deep breath. Let’s hope I am too.
