CHAPTER 33 – Cracked Glass
Imani kept telling herself it was just another errand. Library run. Drive-thru stop. Get home. Pretend everything was normal. But normal felt like a foreign language these days. She drove one-handed, fingers loose on the wheel, her other hand drumming her thigh. Her phone buzzed silently in the cupholder every few minutes, like it was daring her to look. She wore her Spelman sweatshirt, big enough to hide inside, and black leggings that felt soft against her skin. Her hair was pulled back into a perfect puff—even though she’d barely slept. Because looking tired was just one more thing people could ask questions about. Sunlight spilled gold across the windshield, bouncing off the palm trees lining Valencia Avenue. It should have felt pretty. Safe. Instead, her stomach was a tight, sou
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