Page 1

PartOne

Some things are left unsaid

Like stories resting on the nightstands

Waiting to be held again.

But I will always remember

The way you folded

Me at my corners

Like there was a part of me

You wanted to come back to.

—Wilder, Nocturnal

CHAPTER1

Small Towns

JACE

Everyone has their secrets.

“Poof!”

“Poof what?” I stare at Sev, wondering if she’s trying to turn me into a frog again. I lift my eyes from the whiskey I’m trying to drown myself in, but never quite get there. And in case you’re wondering, I’ve been trying for four years. I’m practically a professional at it.

Drunk or not, I’m a little nervous. Why? Do you see the three-year-old little girl in front of me holding a dart? You’d be nervous if Sevyn Rae Grady was holding a dart next to you too. She’s anything but sugar and spice. She’s naughty, and I’m putting this nicely when I say I think she’s a witch. No, seriously. She might be one.

“Yous in love,” she says, jumping up on the chair next to me in attempt at being eye level.

Holding two fingers of whiskey in one hand and a dart in the other, I raise an eyebrow, smirking at the little girl with blonde curls in her face. “With who?”

“Me!” Without looking, she tosses the dart at the wall, scowling at me. “Boyfren.”

I chuckle at her use of boyfren. I’m twenty-one years older than this kid, but she thinks we’re gonna get married someday. Regardless of the age difference, me getting married is laughable. Get to know me a little and you’d realize I’m not one you love long term. Unless you’re my mom. She thinks I’m pretty special. Ask the girls I’ve had a string of one-night stands with and they’ll tell you otherwise. I’ve been told I’m too much to handle, too hot-headed, stubborn, secretive, and weighted with emptiness. That last one was from my high school counselor, but he’s in prison now so I don’t put much weight into that dumb fuck’s theory.

“Sev!” Granger yells from behind us, pulling a dart from his calf. “Stop throwin’ darts.”

She tosses another one at him. “Stops yous complain’.”

More than likely, she heard that from her dad and she’s repeating it because what kid says that shit, right? The Grady kids.

Without missing a beat, Sev quirks her lips. “Do yous thinks he’s bleedin’?”

“Maybe.” I take a drink of my whiskey smiling at her. “Ten bucks says he is.”

She blinks, flashing those beautiful blue eyes my way and pushing curls from her face. “I not have ten bugs.”

“Too bad for you then.”

You’re probably wondering why I’m hanging out with a kid and not a girl my own age. Well, Sev’s not my daughter. I wrap it up. Now, I can’t say the same for her dad, Barron. Which would explain why he’s got two kids under six and his wife is in California fuckin’ some other dude.

Not my problem though. I got enough of my own, which, in fact, explains why I’m at a bar with a three-year-old, who is now holding a pair of scissors. From one weapon to the next. “Uh, no. Put those down,” I warn, grabbing her wrist as she swipes them at me.