Morgan Fox
I come from a broken household, middle-income parents, and lots of promises broken. I met him during a competition. I loved running, and his brother, or adoptive brother, was an athlete. I had just moved out from the place I called home to settle in California, because my mother wanted to chase her career dreams.
He was tall and good-looking. His blonde hair, strong features, and charming smile were captivating. We were both sixteen at the time, and we hit it off.
He asked me for my phone number and I gave it to him. He called me and asked me out, and then coincidentally, we attended the same school. The day-to-day frequency made us fall for each other, hard, without reservations.
He was perfect, but he was just a good guy, without any aspirations for himself. When I ask
