Evan’s pov

My hand was in the air, ready to strike, ready to finally make Sienna understand, to make her hurt like she made me hurt. But then the voice cut through the air, deep and hard.

It stopped me cold. Shock ran through me; no one ever talked to me like that, not to Evan Peterson, not to someone like me.

My arm, frozen in place, felt foolish. How dare anyone interrupt me, especially now, with her, with Sienna, when I was finally about to set things straight?

It was an insult, a ...