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Chapters (37)
  1. Title Page
  2. Table of Contents
  3. Dedication
  4. About This Book
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. Chapter Fifteen
  20. Chapter Sixteen
  21. Chapter Seventeen
  22. Chapter Eighteen
  23. Chapter Nineteen
  24. Chapter Twenty
  25. Chapter Twenty-One
  26. Chapter Twenty-Two
  27. Chapter Twenty-Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-Four
  29. Chapter Twenty-Five
  30. Chapter Twenty-Six
  31. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  32. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  33. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  34. Chapter Thirty
  35. Epilogue
  36. About the Author
  37. Excerpt The Tangle of Awful

With newfound fury burning up inside of me, I storm back over to the front door. Of course, when I try the knob, it’s locked. I beat my fist on the solid door, anger churning at my gut.

No answer.

I glare up at the camera pointed at the stoop and flip it off. If I know Spencer, I know he always has to have the last word.

As predicted, the snap of the deadbolt unengaging echoes its way through my bones. Gritting my teeth together, I lift my chin, preparing to face off with my enemy. The door swings open and his familiar scent—expensive cologne he’s worn probably since birth—swirls around me.

Spencer steps out. Taller than I remember. Stronger, too. Every single part of him perfect as usual. His dark hair is styled a little differently—less boyish and something more manly. The eyes, though, bright blue and intelligent, are icier than ever. Two windows into an arctic hellish soul. It’s his mouth that sends a chill down my spine. A cruel slant of a smile, probably charming to most, but sinister to those who truly know him.

“Hello, brother,” I say in a tone dripping with acid. “Seems my key stopped working.”

I toss the key onto the cement and it clatters between us.

His dark eyebrow lifts, unimpressed by my attitude toward him. Newsflash, buddy, I’m not that girl you ran off once before. He doesn’t answer, instead perusing his gaze up down my body, lingering at my chest. Since the material of my shirt is thin, I know he can see through it, judging my old black Walmart bra and nipples that are hard from the coldness rippling from the open front door where the icy asshole looms.

“You don’t live here anymore, leech.”

I refuse to shudder at the name, choosing to glower at him instead. “Where’s Mom?”

His blue eyes narrow, hard gaze now boring into me. “How the fuck should I know?”

“I want to talk to her,” I snip. “Now.”

He smirks at me. “Still a bossy princess. Go back home to your daddy. You’re no longer welcome here.” He fists his hand and pretends to wipe tear from his cheek. “Mommy doesn’t love you anymore.”

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