*Evelyn*
“My mother was a saint. She was the only good decision my pops ever made.”
My hand on Slater’s stilled as I registered his words. We were laying in his clawfoot bathtub after we’d returned home— me with leaves in my hair after our adventure against his oak tree. He’d ran us a bubble bath and gently plucked the leaves out of my hair and washed it.
I twisted around to look at him, and my heart jumped. I’d always thought smoking was a gross habit, but nothing was as sexy as Slater behind me in his bathtub, cigarette in his hand. His thick dark hair was wet and pushed back, and water droplets were falling off of his sharp jawline.
“What happened to her?” I asked cautiously. His eyes grew dark at my question.
“I never believed in it, you know,” he said huskily, his eyes traveli
