Annabelle

Fourteen days of smiles that don't quite reach his eyes. Fourteen nights of lying awake, replaying that hot as fuck couch make out session over and over in my mind until I've memorized every millisecond of it.

"Hand me the blue crayon, please," Ashlynn says, her little fingers reaching across the table. Her artwork, what she proudly calls a butterfly, is a kaleidoscope of colors that don't stay within any lines.

"Here you go, sweetie." I pass her ...