Nova Reed can't forget him-Quinton
Carter, the boy with the honey-brown eyes who made her realize she
deserved more than an empty life. His pain was so similar to her own.
But Nova has been coming to terms with her past and
healing, while Quinton is out there somewhere, sinking deeper. She's
determined to find him and help him . . . before it's too late.
Nova has haunted his dreams for nearly a year-but Quinton never thought a sweet, kind person like her would care enough about a person like him. To Quinton, a dark, dangerous life is exactly what he deserves. And Nova has no place in it. But Nova has followed him to Las Vegas, and now he must do whatever it takes to keep her away, to maintain his self-imposed punishment for the unforgivable things he's done. But there's one flaw in his plan: Nova isn't going anywhere . . .
Nova has haunted his dreams for nearly a year-but Quinton never thought a sweet, kind person like her would care enough about a person like him. To Quinton, a dark, dangerous life is exactly what he deserves. And Nova has no place in it. But Nova has followed him to Las Vegas, and now he must do whatever it takes to keep her away, to maintain his self-imposed punishment for the unforgivable things he's done. But there's one flaw in his plan: Nova isn't going anywhere . . .
Excerpt
It’s been a long three days, filled with visits to Quinton that seem to be leading nowhere. We have the same conversations and he won’t open up to me at all and I’m not sure how to bring up to him that I know about the accident, so I just keep dodging around it, lying to him. But bringing up memories like that is complicated and painful. I know because every time someone would even mention Landon’s name after his death, it’d feel like a part of me died inside.When I’m not over there with Quinton, I spend my time hanging out with Lea. We haven’t gone to the Strip yet, but we chatted about going out this weekend when it’s late and all the lights are on, just as long as her uncle doesn’t mind that we come home late. He actually just got home from his business trip last night and chatted with Lea and me for a little bit. He seems nice and even cooked us dinner while he asked us about our plans while we are here. Lea was vague about the details, telling him that we were here to see a friend.It’s late morning and I’m sitting in the guest room at Lea’s uncle’s house with the computer screen aimed at me so I can see myself as I get ready to record before I head over to Quinton’s for my daily visit. I have the curtain pulled shut to avoid any glare. My brown hair is wavy and runs down to my shoulders and the blue studs in my ears match my tank top. I have shorts on and no shoes. “It’s been three days of going over to see Quinton and the time I spend with him feels so short and the time in between feels so long because I’m always worried about what he’s doing when I’m gone.” I lean forward in the chair, getting closer to the screen. “I still hate going over there, though, because it’s so terrifying…his place. I’m not even sure why. If it’s because there’s so many rough people walking around doing things that are bad and illegal or if it’s the fact that if I didn’t change paths, I could have ended up there.” I pause, considering my next words carefully. “What’s really hard is that sometimes I can see myself there, sitting beside Quinton on the shitty mattress in his room. I can picture myself there getting high beside him, connecting with him, and life is so different. Less stressful.” I make a guilty face. “Maybe that’s not the right word, because it is stressful in a different way, but it’s like you’re so wrapped up in drugs that you can’t register the stress until it’s too late and everything’s falling apart. I don’t want to get sucked into it again, but it’s so easy and even though I won’t tell Lea this”—I lower my voice and lean closer to the screen—“there’s been a few fleeting seconds where I think why not? Why not just join him again? What’s stopping you? Which makes me wonder if maybe I’m not the right person to save Quinton.” I raise my arm in front of the screen and get a shot of my scar and tattoo. “But then I look down at this and I remember that place, where I was so lost, drifting, drifting, drifting. I could have died and it wouldn’t have mattered,” I say. “But right now it does matter because I want to live.”I sigh, knowing I’m rambling at this point. “Honestly, I don’t know what exactly I’m trying to say with this recording, other than to get my thoughts out.” I faintly smile. “Sort of like a diary.” I click the camera off and shut down the computer. I slip my sandals on and grab my bag, ready to head out, hoping that I can continually remember, never forget just how bad things can get, because it’s what keeps me going.
About the author:
Jessica Sorensen is a #1 New York Times and USA
Todaybestselling author
who lives with her husband and three kids in Idaho. When she's not
writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.
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