17
“Good morning, Myla. You’re called to serve.”
I open my eyes and yawn. “Hey there, Walker. I haven’t seen you in ages.” In fact, the last time I saw him was three months ago, when I fought Deacon in the Arena and almost tackled Lincoln. Who knew I’d end up kissing the guy? Since then, I’ve gone to both the thrax autumn and winter tournaments. Time has flown.
Now it’s just a few days after celebrations for the New Year. Too long, really, between visits from my honorary undead older brother. Normally he sneaks me in to see someone else’s match at the Arena at least once a month.
I mock-frown. “I’ve missed you, Walker.”
My heart thumps sadly. I miss Lincoln, too. I haven’t heard a word from him since the winter tournament two weeks ago. It’s really bumming me out that I was some kind
