-Sloane Delgado:
The words she'd said were still echoing inside my head, sharp and cruel like the crack of a whip. I hadn't meant to say that—God, I hadn't meant to—but they came out of my mouth anyway, laced with fear and pride and every confused emotion I didn't know how to deal with.
Roxy's eyes darkened, the warmth in them dying so quickly it left me cold. The air between us changed—thick, heavy, like a storm had just rolled in and we were standing right at its center. Before I could even form another word, she moved.
Her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my wrist—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make me stumble as she pulled me toward the bedroom. My breath hitched. The way she moved, the raw anger radiating off her, the way her jaw clenched—I didn't know what she was going to do. My heart hammered against my ribs so loud I could hear it.
"Roxy—" I whispered, but she didn't stop.
