Mia Evian has to piece together the mystery of Zack Maddox, the bad boy whose life she saved, while simultaneously keeping her own crumbling life together before Zack ends up in trouble again - or worse yet, dead.
...
Oups ! Cette image n'est pas conforme à nos directives de contenu. Afin de continuer la publication, veuillez la retirer ou télécharger une autre image.
I spend the first night sleeping in the cottage with a fortress of pillows between Preston and me, just in case. To my relief, he doesn't try anything, and I wake on the Saturday feeling refreshed. The sunlight seeping in through the open window gently rouses me, and for the first time since I can remember, I'm up and around before nine on a weekend morning. Preston isn't in bed when I wake up, so I check the en suite, but there's no sign of him. Before I begin getting ready, I close the window and partly cover it with its thick red curtains. Preston can't sleep with closed windows, apparently, which I ensured to inform him was abnormal, but I humoured him regardless.
Matty's the only one in the living room when I enter. He has tomato ketchup splattered over his face, and all that remains of what once was a bacon sandwich are scraps of fat and a few crumbs on his plate. He leaps up from the kitchen table and gives me a hello as Preston wanders in from the main hallway. He turned fairly quiet again after Matty spilled the beans last night, and as I watched the brothers for the rest of the night, I got the feeling it was Matty Preston was most upset with, not me. He seems okay now, at least, based on the extremely predictable joke he makes about my name the second he spots me.
'We're going to the seaside today,' Matty informs me as Preston hands me a bacon sandwich. I thank him as Matty continues. 'It's sunny and it's not really cold, but kinda cold so maybe have a jacket just in case. We're gonna get fish and chips too, so I hope you like fish.'
Preston plops himself down onto the sofa next to me with a cheese toastie. 'You can't only get fish at fish and chip shops, pal.'
'Yeah you can,' Matty argues. He turns to me and jabs his thumb at Preston's food. 'He's greedy, that's his second one.'
'I'm a growing boy.'
'No, you're not, you're like thirty.'
'I only turned nineteen last week, Matt.'
'Same thing,' Matty mutters, having clearly lost interest in the conversation.
It was Preston's birthday last week? Since when? I stare at him as he inspects the inside of his toastie, and I anticipate an explanation, but as always, I get nothing.
'Why didn't you say it was your birthday?' I question.
Preston shrugs. 'I don't celebrate it.'
'Why not?'
'It doesn't matter.'
As expected, I receive no elaboration.
Oups ! Cette image n'est pas conforme à nos directives de contenu. Afin de continuer la publication, veuillez la retirer ou télécharger une autre image.
