Denver.
The party at Zee’s house raged behind me as I walked out, the bass thudding in my chest like a second heartbeat.
People were dancing and laughing, drinks were spilling, and lights were twinkling across the yard. The party had turned out great. Despite the joy around me, none of it pulled me in.
I was in no mood for celebration.
I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I walked toward where I had parked my car.
I slid into my car, turned the ignition, and within seconds I was on the road—my thoughts swirling faster than the streets rushing past me.
I rubbed my hands over my face again, trying to calm the storm inside. I was so used to being in control, to having the upper hand. But Zee was different. She made me feel vulnerable in ways I wasn’t ready for.
By the time I reache
