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“Grovel.” I stop spinning my poker chip and frown. “What?” Rory stares at me from across the breakfast table, like she just discovered I only have one brain cell, and she’s wondering how I survive day-to-day. “She wants you to grovel, Rafe.” Her lip curls into a sneer. “And rightly so. Goose, no wonder she disappeared off the face of the planet, you absolute weirdo.”
the wrapping and squint down at it. It’s a book of some sort. When Rafe reaches up to click on the overhead light, an orange glow spreads
isn’t just any book. It’s bound in mustard-yellow leather with a title embossed on the cover.
“What is this?”
Underneath, there’s my