Nightfall (Devil's Night, #4)

by Penelope Douglas

Emory Scott hated me, but she hated nearly everyone. So, she was making me work for it. So what? I’d be disappointed if she didn’t. She didn’t respect Michael, Kai, or Damon, either. It shouldn’t hurt. But it did. I always liked her. I always looked for her. And over the years, passing her in the halls and feeling her in the classroom next to me, she got hot as fuck in ways no one else seemed to notice but me. God, she had a mouth on her. I loved her attitude and her anger, because I was always too warm and I needed the ice. It made me smile. But I also saw things no one else did. The cute way she’d trip over a sidewalk slab or walk straight into a mailbox, because her eyes were lost in the trees over her head instead of watching where she was going. How she’d push her grandmother in her wheelchair down to the village, both of them smiling and eating ice cream together. Emmy would hold her hand the whole time they sat. The way she worked so hard, all by herself, without anyone to keep her company on her creative projects around town. There was so much there that people didn’t see. She shouldn’t be alone all the time.