The next morning, I opened the door. Grant was standing in the hallway.
Cigarette butts littered the floor around him. It looked like he'd been there all night.
The first thing his eyes landed on was the faint mark on the side of my neck that my sweater hadn't covered.
The color drained from his face.
"You really let him touch you."
"That's none of your business."
I started to close the door. He raised a hand to stop it.
This time, he didn't force his way inside.
Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and took out an old jewelry box.
Inside lay a delicate silver anklet.
It was the one I'd laid my eyes on in a vintage shop on my 21st birthday. I'd walked away because it was too expensive.
Grant said, "That night, I left your birthday party to pick this up. When I came back, yo
