Chapter Fourty
The sliding doors of St. Joseph’s whooshed open, belching out a gust of dead, recycled air. Owen strolled through like he owned the place — shoulders loose, half-smirk still clinging to his face like the scent of fresh coffee and Jessica’s shampoo. A little bounce in his step. Ryan stiffened the second he saw him. Chloe shot to her feet so fast her chair nearly toppled. Owen caught the movement out of the corner of his eye — some vague, lazy awareness stirring — but he was still grinning, still riding the leftover dopamine from Jessica’s laugh and the way her hand had brushed his arm. “Hey, fam,” he said — lazy, wrong, so f*****g wrong — as he sauntered closer. Chloe’s face went slack with disgust. Ryan didn’t say a word. Next to Ryan stood Evan — poor, sweet Evan — who clearl
- Writer
