Page 162 of Burning Daylight
I walk inside and jump a mile high when Beverly’s voice filters from around the corner. “How was your date?”
“Christ, Bevie, give me a heart attack.” I press my hand to my chest. “It was with Preston, so it sucked.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her about Roman, but I don’t get the chance before she changes the subject.
“Well, your father’s home. So, I’d recommend you go up to your wing and stay there.”
“Sure.” I glance down the long hallway, wondering what my dad’s getting up to. There’s an overwhelming sense of dread whenever I think about him now.
But I listen, making my way up to my room, and pulling out my notebook, weaving my memories into fiction.
The girl let the wolf devour her. Not because she didn’t know better, but because she did. Because she was desperate to know what it felt like to be undone by him. He sank into her like a curse whispered on the wind, and now she walks around like he’s branded into her skin. Marked. Claimed.
She knows she’ll dream of blood moons and velvet mouths, and of simpler times…when she still thought she could survive the ruin of him.
“We’ve done nothing wrong!”
The Calloway family hits back hard.
In a bold press moment, Craig Calloway slams corruption rumors as “outrageous” and “completely false,” standing firm alongside his wife Martha and their eldest son, Paxton.
Facing protests and fresh graffiti, the Calloways claim it’s all a smear campaign courtesy of Marcus Montgomery.
“We’ve built this town. We are this town,” Craig said.
Paxton called for an independent investigation, adding, “We have nothing to hide.”
Meanwhile, the Montgomery estate? Radio silence.
#CallowayWatch #GraffitiGate #RosebrookRag #FamilyFeud
41
ROMAN
Brooklynn:
I signed the thing.
Relief hits me sharp and hard at Brooklynn’s acknowledgment that she signed the trust. That means I don’t have to worry. No matterwhathappens with me, she’s taken care of. It’s legally binding, and she has full access immediately to all the funds.
Me:
Fuck, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. Thank you.
My thumb hovers over the screen.
Brooklynn:
Do you know how Mom is, by the way?
The shift is subtle, but I feel the low hum of dread in my chest. The way it always is whenever my mother is brought up.
Me:
We can’t call her for another two weeks. When she comes out of isolation, we’ll plan a visit, if you want? I’ll fly in. How are you feeling?
Brooklynn:
