Greyson
Since I saw the footage of my apartment, I had been debating on what I could and should tell Cecilia. It wasn't that I didn't think she could handle the information. It was that contrary to the popular saying, knowledge while powerful was also dangerous. Telling her what I knew could jeopardize her safety.
I couldn't pull my gaze from her if I tried.
This was Cecilia Abernathy unlike the world saw. I didn't mean that she was spread wide in a degrading way. No, this was all five feet four and a half inches, skin pink from a warm shower, bare feet, cheap shorts, a New Hampshire t-shirt, and her wavy long hair plaited to one side. This was the woman beneath the stories. She was a compact locomotive, strong and full of determination.
I let my thoughts settle as I tilted my head
