Marissa, with her nasty snarl and wicked eyes, is running through my head, smirking at me, cackling at me. I can almost sense her satisfaction coursing through me. She’s won. She’s taken him from me in the worst way.

“I don’t know if I can come back from this … I need time to breathe, time to think,” I whisper, afraid that saying it louder will be more crushing to my soul.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He croaks as he tries to see my face in the gloom of the dim ...