Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke Kindle Novels & Stories

“And a bad influence on the youth.” “We’re definitely a bad influence on someone,” Kael said. She flipped to another channel. “What about this? Weather. Less offensive.” “They’re wrong about that too,” he said. “Storm’s already in the building.” She eyed him over her mug. “Getting poetic in your old age?” “Must be your influence,” he said. For a few stolen hours, their day felt almost…normal.

Thanksgiving week had been a healing balm, a quiet, cozy reprieve that solidified the foundation we were desperately trying to rebuild. By the time Jude had to leave, the goodbyes were still tearful, but they were filled with hope instead of despair. The weeks that followed were a testament to our new commitment. The distance was still a challenge, but the daily calls, the constant honesty, and the shared goal of healing made it bearable.

A contract I'd been after for a year now, and a deal that will have my bikes all over the world. "Tell me something, Jared, is she going to turn my place upside down?" "Nah...well not in a bad way anyhow." I looked at him full on with the do not fuck with me glare. "What am I in for?" "All I will say is that it's good to see some of the old Kat again, after what those fucks did to herª" He stopped short and cut himself off. I felt a burning in my gut as my fists curled. "What fucks, what're you talking about?"

Smoke clung to the air, thick and bitter, curling through the splintered trees. The silence after the clash felt heavier than the fight itself, as though the whole forest was holding its breath. I leaned into Kieran, my voice raw. "It's really... gone?" His storms flickered, scanning the smoldering wreck. "For now." "For now?" My chest tightened. "You mean it could come back?" He shook his head slowly. "Not that thing. But whatever made it" He broke off, jaw clenched, fire still crackling faintly across his skin. "That's not gone. Not yet."

“Now. This is getting worse.” He didn’t move. “They won’t let us leave,” he said quietly. “We don’t know that,” I argued. “I do,” he replied. Irene stepped closer. “Then we make it happen,” she said. “We’ve gotten out of worse.” Wilson blinked. “…Have we?” he asked. “Because this feels like the worst so far.” “No,” Irene said. “It’s just the most complicated.” “That is not comforting,” Wilson muttered. I turned back to Cameron.

"Progress. Yesterday I only wanted to murder half the population." "Big improvement." We talked about nothing for a minute weather, how the barista looks like he hates his life, the fact that my skates needed sharpening again then somehow we slid into the real shit, because apparently I can't keep my mouth shut around him. I told him everything.

I hope the inside of his truck smells like mold in a few days. “Junk. Of course you think it's junk because you can buy anything you like. My sister busted her ass because she was the only one that was allowed to get a job so she could buy us those”—I hold my fingers up to make air quotes—“‘junk’ phones because we can't stand the idea of not talking to each other every day. And because, well, we love each other, which is something I suspect you don’t understand.” I let out a breath, feeling better that I got that all out. It feels good to yell. I should probably do it more often. “I’m sorry.” He actually looks a little sheepish, and I stand there in shock for a moment wondering if I misunder

“Why are you so angry?” Jasmine took the remote from the table and clicked on it exposing the news and instantly bad reports started to swarm the room. Weather disasters and killings so brutal that Gabriel had to hold his breath, not including the racism that plagued the world more than the sickness. The earthly realm was in far worse condition than he first assumed. It was no wonder the carriers stayed so busy, more and more people were dying and suffering. Famine, war, depression of all sorts plagued human kind like it had many centuries ago. History was repeating itself.

“Uh—yeah. He texted me last night. We… talked about some stuff.” Liv raised an eyebrow. “Stuff?” I shrugged, fiddling with the strap of my bag. “Just family things. It wasn’t a big deal.” She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me for a second, but thankfully, she didn’t push. “Well, I’m glad he’s being… nicer lately. That’s new.” “Yeah, it’s weird,” I muttered. “Almost like he’s trying to be… decent.” Liv smirked. “Don’t get used to it. Jordan doesn’t stay decent for long.”

“That is deeply unfair.” “It is also true.” I huffed quietly. Then I looked back out at the sea. Somewhere out there, Kai was probably causing trouble in another country. Last month he had sent us a photo from somewhere in South America with no explanation except a message that read: Good news, this one deserved it. Marcus was still alive. Still impossible.m, still somehow more argumentative than before his treatment started. He called me twice a week to complain about politicians, weather forecasts, modern architecture, and once, very seriously, a sandwich someone had made him at a café.