AMARA'S POINT OF VIEW.

I let out a breath of relief as the tension in my spine disappeared into thin air. Slurping on my mango smoothie, I mused on the events of yesterday.

If trauma had a smell, mine would be burnt toast and mangoes. I sat on the counter in one of Ace’s many hoodies, sighing at the delectable taste of the smoothie I cajoled him into making for me.

The door clicked open, forcing me out of the daze I was in. I didn’t have to look up to know it was him; ...