My Bruised Heart
my father muttered, not looking up from his paper.
Miles tapped her chin, thinking. Too hard. She glanced at me again, tilting her head, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Maverick," she finally said, her voice honey-sweet but sharp beneath it.
My dad looked up at her, already charmed. "Yes, Raven?"
I swallowed.
"Do you happen to know how a bottle of 1905 Branshire—”
Before she could finish, Marcus and I lunged.
I slapped my hand over her mouth, blurting out some random, garbled noise while Marcus let out a loud, forced laugh, nearly choking on his food.
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