Devan
Holy s**t. This is Justin Sheers.
I recognize him, but he obviously doesn't recognize me.
“Hi, Justin," I say, unwilling to give away my identity.
With his hands pushed down in the pockets of his jeans, I see the man my brother's friend has become. His auburn hair is mussed—not short but not too long. His chiseled jaw is covered by a day's or more beard growth showing red even by the light of the moon. It's his eyes, though, that I can't look away from.
When did they become so intense?
The blue shimmers.
I take a step closer, unsure if I'm imagining this encounter. Maybe it's my subconscious giving me another reason to consider Riverbend. As the thought comes, it goes. Once Justin Sheers knows who I am, he won't be interested in me.
“Are you all right?" he asks with a s
