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Chapter 21: Maximus Macarthur Magnolias
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... ty.
I closed my eyes.
Inhaled.
Cold morning air scraped down my throat — a little too sharp, a little too real.
For just a second, I let myself pretend it was peaceful.
Then a voice shattered the quiet.
"That's him."
Can I not have five fucking minutes.
Whatever emotion I had left drained from my face as I turned. My eyes — one storm-grey, the other rust-red — settled on a broad-shouldered man, toned like a sculpture. Late twenties, ...
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