HOPE
I've been fucking told to ignore anyone especially strangers by Jeremy, so I hide the book inside my backpack and brush past him.
"There's no need to ignore me, Hope. Right?"
Still trembling from head to toe, I manage a shaky nod, this one doesn't look like he would ever get the memo that I don't fucking want to talk with him
From the inside pocket of his jacket, his long, pale fingers retrieve a black-and-gold business card. He holds it out to me. "Alaric Brown."
I take the card gingerly, careful not to let my fingers brush against his. Bold at the top is the Harvard University crest—three golden crowns and an open book—followed by his name.
His listed specialty is Veterinary Medicine? The card includes not one, but three numbers, plus an office extension and an email address. He might be ancient, but clearly not out of touch.
"How may I help you?" I squeak out the words before they catch in my throat. Every nerve in my body screams to bolt and run, but I stay rooted.
