Elena.

I tugged the brush through my hair with violent, punishing strokes, desperate to make it settle. Of course, the friction only made the stubborn brown knots worse, until the bristles practically welded themselves into the chaotic mass.

With a fractured sigh of pure frustration, I ripped the brush out, threw it across the room, and conquered the mess with a scrunchie. As usual, my wild curls won the battle.

It was the second day of the break, and my family was in full, chaotic holiday mode, preparing a massive dinner. My mother, in her infinite, meddling wisdom, had decided Killian needed to be there. She’d called him over my...