After that night with Maxwell Wilde, I thought about swinging by his office; seeing if I’d get invited to his house again. But something had held me back; perhaps a suspicion that Maxwell could be very dangerous. Not for my body, but for my heart.
In any case, everything was a bit of a whirl. A week after that night, I headed to Ohio for Thanksgiving with my family. What I hadn’t expected was to bump into Maxwell there—of all places. A run-in at the grocery store near my aunt’s house, a polite exchange, his knowing smile. That brief brush with him had been enough to reignite every reckless impulse I’d been trying to bury. Distance wouldn’t be enough to erase him, I realized.
When the holidays ended, I tried to throw myself into normalcy. Finals, graduation, job applications. Then I packe
