Chapter 85

Summer’s POV

I rolled my beaten-up Jeep into Addy’s driveway at two in the morning, dead on cue with my life choices: questionable at best. In the pitch-black hush of Silver Hollow, none of the townhomes were labeled “Jared’s,” so my best bet was Addy’s place. The looming row of houses looked like a lineup of silent spectators, waiting to see me embarrass myself in front of my two best friends.

My knuckles rapped on the door like a very desperate woodpecker. I swiped at my eyes yet again—automated tear-season, courtesy of my idiotic decision to come back home and face whatever—no, whomever I’d been running from. Since I touched down in this ghost town, I’d been watering like a houseplant left on a mistimed sprinkler. Great timing, Summer.

A minute later, Damien cracked the door open. He blinked at me like I was a half-forgotten hangover. His brow furrowed. I suddenly realized: wow, I look like a raccoon drowned in whipped cream. Sexy.

“Who is it?” Addy