“So,” I started, one of my elbows resting on the center console, the other clutching the steering wheel, “what are you in the mood for?”
The minute Matt called me—asking if we could swing by and pick up Cora because it sounded like she needed someone—I didn’t hesitate. I got dressed, grabbed my keys, and walked right out the damn door. He wanted to wait, said maybe it wasn’t urgent, but I’ve never been one for waiting when it comes to Cora. Not then, not now, not ever.
By the time I showed up, everything I needed to know was written all over the damn place. That dickhead of hers smelled like a hobo who’d been marinating in a barrel of stale liquor and cheap regrets. And that was just the beginning. The way he looked at her—like she was disposable, like she didn’t matter—made my jaw clenc
