Evander

I have the urge to yank Kenna into a sitting room, or a closet, or a fucking darkened hallway the second my feet hit the ground in Moonrise.

I can’t, though. Not when our mothers are barreling toward us, and their faces are drawn with so much worry that it could easily break my heart, if I still had a heart to break.

I let go of Kenna’s hand and feel the absence of her touch like another blade in my side.

But my mom throws herself against me and sobs.

I slowly wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head. The throne...