Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)

by Elsie Silver

I wink at him. “Thank you for the coffee. I’m ready for you to break my back.” His face pales, like he realizes how I could have interpreted his note. “I meant you could ride if you wanted to.” “Oh, I want to.” Heat flares on his cheeks. I shouldn’t prod the bear like this, but it’s just who I am. I like to watch him squirm. “A horse. You can take mine.” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder.

she should’ve said “is it a big horse” or smtg like that

Willa might be a bit of a psycho—after all, she did just push a child into the pool—but the more time I spend with her, the more I feel like she’s my psycho.

I feel safe when I’m scowling, but it’s getting harder and harder to look at Willa Grant without smiling.

“Have you tried talking to him?” I blink at her. “Talking?” “Yes. You know . . . where you use your mouth to create words that describe what’s going through your head.” “Sounds weird. Sounds awkward. Don’t like it. Not approved by me.”

She laughs and it’s so pretty. Like chimes in the wind. One of the first things I noticed about her that day in the coffee shop.

Rhett: You know Medusa? Willa: Not personally, no. Rhett: Remember the part about not looking her in the eyes? Willa: I’ve always kind of liked Medusa. If I were her, I’d wanna turn men into stone too.

I reply while avoiding Summer’s eyes. Because the last time I looked at her, she held her hands up beside her head and made little devil horns with an evil scrunched-up face.

All I know is that in those early days, everyone looked at Jasper like he might come apart at any moment. But Sloane looked at him like he hung the moon.