C33 Chapter 33

Medora

I wanted nothing more than to sprint after Clyde the moment I saw him. He looked different—clean-shaven, well-groomed, his hair trimmed an inch shorter. But the sharp clench of his jaw when our eyes met told me everything: he was still mad at me.

I froze, rooted in place, fingers tightening around my suitcase until my knuckles turned white. I watched him wheel away, his shoulders tense