This Life and All the Rest (Next Life, #2)

by Brit Benson

And where it used to be handless, there are now hands. One long and one shorter, just like you’d expect on a traditional clock. But instead of being just regular lines, they’re paint brushes. Two of them.

Dead.

She just locks her eyes with mine while I wait for her to speak. I’m always waiting on Lennon, but I don’t mind. I’ve been waiting on her since we were teenagers. What’s a little longer?

“The heart is a lonely hunter with only one desire! To find some lasting comfort in the arms of another's fire.”