Wretched (Never After, #3)

by Emily McIntire

I don’t think about how this is inappropriate. How she stands for everything I’m against. How I’m the villain of her story as surely as she is mine.

But for the first time in years, the solitude feels a little less like comfort and a little more empty.

“the only love you can count on is the way you love yourself.”

But if I’m her calm, then she is my chaos, and if I can’t live with her forever, then I don’t want to live at all.

Except it doesn’t feel good, because this doesn’t feel like home anymore. I don’t think I knew what home was until I found it in her.