Leone
The steering wheel feels icy in my hands as I navigate the rain-slick streets. However, it’s not the chill that has me on edge—it’s the image of Fallon seared into my mind. The way she crumpled when I... I can’t even think about it without a knot tightening in my gut.
“Damn it,” I mutter, slamming my palm against the horn as some i***t cuts me off, oblivious to the storm brewing inside my car and head. Fallon’s wide, green eyes, usually full of fire, are now extinguished with fear—because she dared enter his room, the tomb of memories I locked away the day I received my son’s urn.
My phone feels heavy as I pull it from my pocket, the sleek device a direct line to clean up the mess at home—a mess I created. My thumb hovers over the screen for a second before pressing down with deci
