I knew more about her for never having spoken to her. We didn't need to. Because the way she looked at me sometimes, that said it all. She wanted me. She didn't mind that I'd stop by her apartment late, or that I'd watch her sleep, buried under her gray blanket, while the stars strung around her room blinked on and off to the rhythm of her breathing.


34. Avery

A few days later, Devon showed up with two cups of coffee. When I told her Adam was sick, and I wanted to find him, she had the exact reaction I expected.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

I winched at her tone. She was angry, of course. I was being stupid, careless, reckless.

"I need to help him," I told her.

"Avery." Her voice was pained, like she couldn't bring herself to say my name. "He tried to kill you. Why would you ever want to help him?"

"He didn't mean—"

Devon's expression hardened. "You're actually defending him." When she stood, I didn't stop her. "I can't believe this."

"Devon, it's not—"

Her eyes narrowed. "That's exactly what it is. You know what? I can't do this."

Her next words left me cold.

"You're just as sick as he is."

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