22. Please, don’t.
Reid.
Doing the things I’ve done in life and still deserving someone like Willa O’Neill… that’s just not something that happens.
I’m not that lucky.
Still, it doesn’t stop me from tying her to my side—something that, without a doubt, is wrong.
I watch her silently as she eats her dinner at the small table in our hotel room. We arrived in Los Angeles today, and I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I don’t know why I brought her with me—other than the selfish truth that I’m too weak to let her go completely.
And it hurts, that look in her eyes, like I hang her moon—when I can’t even manage to do the right, decent thing in this situation. Because the right thing would be, without a doubt, to leave her out of it. Not to drag her into demons that aren’t hers to fight
