Medora
I pulled my hand away from his grip and rubbed my chest, trying to ease the ache.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked softly, frustration lacing his voice.
“Can we go upstairs and talk?” I swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes.
My mind couldn’t fully process what I was about to do, but I knew I needed to. Clyde knocked on the window, catching Barry’s attention. Barry nodded and drove into Clyde’s property, stopping near the treehouse. That treehouse—the reason I ever got to know Clyde. Bless the day I stormed up there to give him a piece of my mind.
Or maybe curse it.
I sat on his bed while he took off his shoes and jacket, tossing them onto the dresser. “We’re upstairs. Wanna talk now?” he asked, undoing his shirt sleeves.
I sighed, shaking where I sat. “I like you,” I said,
