…
With tired eyes, I stared down at the crumpled note in my hand.
The paper was warm, like it hadn't been sitting there long. Someone had clearly folded it with care instead of haste. I could still see the creases even as my fingers tightened around it, knuckles whitening.
I glanced over at Lila.
She was still asleep, chest rising and falling in slow, even motions. Dirty-blonde hair spilled messily across her face, lashes resting against her cheeks like nothing in the world could touch her. One arm was thrown over my side of the sleeping bag, fingers slack, trusting.
Anxiety crawled up the back of my neck, sharp and electric, as my eyes dropped back to the note.
The penmanship was vaguely familiar.
"You talk in your sleep, douchebag."
I frowned.
"If you really plan on leaving, dont bring her."
—A
Huh.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, nails dragging through my hair as if friction alone could knock the thought loose. The fuck…? Who was—?
