Chapter 4: First Snow, First Contact

Right then, snow started falling from the gray Ohio sky.

I hugged my bruised arm, leaning against the wall, and saw from a distance that James had already picked up his son.

Even with his son there, his face was stone cold. He just stubbed out his cigarette, lowered his gaze, took his son’s hand, and the two of them turned to get into a black SUV.

Maybe my gaze was too intense, because just before climbing in, the boy suddenly turned and looked right at me.

I was covered in blood and snow, a sorry sight, but still, on instinct, I gave that strikingly beautiful boy a gentle smile.

His eyes were as cold as his father’s, calmly sizing me up.

He only looked at me once.

The bodyguard opened the car door. The door shut slowly before my eyes, and the SUV pulled away without a backward glance.

A gust of wind sent snow spiraling into my lap, and I pressed my sleeve to my lip, feeling the sting. The snowflakes melted instantly on my cheeks, stinging where the skin was raw. The boy’s eyes—so much like his father’s—felt like a memory I couldn’t place, something carved into my bones from a life I’d never lived.