Brandon's POV
Elizabeth.
I hadn't seen her in this house for so long—long enough to wish I'd never have to. But there she was, standing right in front of our porch, sunlight catching the sleek edges of her auburn hair. Her lips, painted a deep rose, curved into a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. She was dressed like she'd walked straight out of a high-end magazine shoot: she had on a beige trench coat cinched tight around her waist, glossy boots, and a black leather bag that practically screamed I've come with trouble.
My pulse hammered, a mixture of confusion and irritation tangled inside me.
What the hell was she doing here?
The question barely escaped my lips when Madison's voice came out, bright and excited.
"Elizabeth!" she squealed, bolting toward her like a human rocket.
