He seemed to be seeing Leslie from that evening all over again.
Back then, his parents were still alive, and their family was whole, still happy.
That version of Leslie had just handed all her money to a beggar, then flipped her hair with a smug smile. "What happens to him after this has nothing to do with me. All I know is right now, he's just a poor guy on the street, and that makes me happy."
But her eyes-those eyes-told a whole different story.
"Stopping you? Possible? Leslie, who are you really?"
He asked the question again, voice soft but heavy.
Leslie looked straight into Broderick's eyes. And just like that, he froze, eyes going wide.
She leaned in, her lips brushing his in a feather-light kiss. It was soft, almost nothing, but enough to make his head spin.
