Mistakes were made. Others were blamed.

My real mom died when I was born—hemorrhaged to death while giving birth to me, which has never been one of my favorite memories—and Dad married Denise before I’d turned a year. Without even asking my opinion on the matter. Denise and I never really clicked.

You rented the apartment with a dead guy in the corner?” I shrugged. “I wanted the apartment, and I figured I could cover him up with a bookcase or something.

My prodding me didn't elicit a reaction. His unseeing eyes stared straight through me. Which was odd. He'd seemed so sane huddled in Cookie's trunk.

Glitch was about as wild and unpredictable as a carrot stick.

He's helped me a lot over the years." "I'm sure he has. You scratch his back. He scratches yours." "I have skin allergies. I'm itchy.

Rocket," I said, straightening in the chair. "Donovan was just helping me with my contacts." Donovan raised his brows humorously. Rocket furrowed his. "Did you swallow them?