Sublime

Wolfe had been an influential advocate in the 1970s

Beckett’s cheeks flush a furious shade of red. Last month he showed up to family dinner with a shit-eating grin, a new gold ring on his finger, and his wife on his arm.

I shrug and try to keep my face from doing anything weird. “Nova?” Layla gives me a look. “Yes. Nova. This tall.” She holds up her hand in front of her. “Blond hair. Pretty tattoos.” I have to bite the inside of my cheek against my smile. Her tattoos are so pretty.

Hannah drove a battered black Toyota that had been pulled apart and put back together so many times it constituted a philosophical conundrum.

Harloe and Williams