Medora
Five years, and I was still dreaming about Clyde—still hoping he’d walk back into my life with some wild excuse, like he’d lost his memory or been abducted by aliens. Anything to explain why he’d vanished without a word.
I sighed, rolling out of bed and dragging myself toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. No time to dwell on ghosts of the past. It was a big day for the boys, and I needed to check them all before practice. They’d better pray no one was out drinking last night because there was an impromptu test waiting for them.
Dressed and ready, I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time.
Reign.
Lately, he’d been clingy. Too clingy.
When he was younger and still that “cute kid,” he hated my guts, rolling his eyes at everything I said. Now, at twenty, he wanted to lay
