This chapter was supposed to be different.
Sasha Grey put the car in park. Cut the engine. And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t waiting for someone to save her.
Leo didn’t say, I would never . He just nodded, like she’d named a ghost that had been living in the room between them. Then he reached across the table, palm up. An offer, not a demand.
Sasha Grey, at seventeen, learned something that no book had taught her: love isn’t the fire. It’s the willingness to sit in the smoke.