Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)

by Elsie Silver

Jasper: I don’t like talking to people. Sloane: You talk to me. Jasper: You’re not people. Sloane: Lmao. What am I then? Jasper: My person.

But fuck, losing someone and having them not know that you care about them? Wishing you could go back and tell them? That’s a special hell. One I have no intention of living in because I’ve given my demons enough of myself already—they can’t have her too.

Sloane is soothing. She’s the eye of the storm. True North. Somehow our compasses always bring us back to each other.

“Times have changed, Sloane. I’m not scared anymore. You’re not my fucking friend. You’re just mine.”