“What about her?” I manage to ask the question with as much indifference I can muster, but my blood feels like it's ice, moving through my veins as everyone in the room stares down at the pictures of her. She looks like a fucking angel. My angel. That’s what I thought the first time I’d laid eyes on her, and I still think it every time I see her.

Her reddish-brown hair falls in waves around her face down to the middle of her back. She has honey-colored eyes like I’ve ...