When his finger tapped the wood impatiently, my gaze shot up to his styled brown hair, though not as thoroughly as his bassist, before finally meeting his gaze. Instantly, I was drowning in a forest of green. Instantly, he hated me. Hester, give me strength. My eyes had to be deceiving me. What was unfolding…couldn’t possibly be. The only flaw in my logic was that no one could ever mistake Houston Morrow, Loren James, and Jericho Noble. It was them. Bound.
