bookbandita

Erika: His name is Michael Crist. My boyfriend's older brother is like that scary movie that you peek through your hand to watch. He's handsome, strong, and completely terrifying. The star of his college's basketball team and now gone pro, he's more concerned with the dirt on his shoe than me.

Clark Griswold was onto something...at least with his annual holiday meltdown. And since the last three weeks of my life have been riddled with humbug—another breakup, a broken toe, an office promotion I deserved and didn’t get—I’m not at all in the mood to celebrate nor have the happ, happ, happiest Christmas EVER.

Imagine searching your whole life for answers, and then finally finding them. A part of you is excited to know the truth. Another part of you is damaged, because you realize why it was so hard to learn answers. Secrets aren't usually very pretty. In the midst of all of it, the four monsters I've gotten too attached to are about to be reunited with the one woman they all once loved so deeply that they sacrificed everything for an eternity with her. They said they hated Arion, but I never see hatred when they're around him. I see frustration, resentment, anger, and pain, never hatred.

I'm like a snowball rolling downhill. That's the first thing that pops into my mind when I try to explain my life. I don't know exactly "what'"I am, but I do know who I am. At least...I did. Sometimes life sends things your way that upend everything you thought you knew, and then slings you in another direction without any sort of harness or warning. Sometimes it drops someone like me off in the path of four wildly different monsters, who all used to be best friends, but now sort of hate each other and compete over absolutely everything, including...me.

I'm not all that special, really. I'm sure there are a lot of girls with old gypsy blood who see the dead, have killer cults hunting their family, and turn into something that gets scary when they panic. Yep. I'm just an ordinary girl. I wish people would believe that. I've been labeled as one thing or another for most of my life: Death Girl. Crazy Gypsy Girl. Gothic Chick. Monster. It took my mother's death for me to finally start getting answers about what's really been going on. Unfortunately, most of the answers come from men...who aren't just men.

They say everything happens for a reason - that there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. For the longest time, I didn’t think that was true. I had stumbled around in the dark for so many years that I didn’t think I would ever find my way out. But when I finally did, it came in the most unexpected way. Miles Hollins had been my brother’s best friend for as long as I could remember. We didn’t like each other much growing up. Or rather, we couldn’t stand each other.

Ryland Thorpe taught me the hard way that good doesn’t always win and sometimes the people we trust the most are the ones that can hurt us the deepest. At 15, my world began and ended with him. He was my older brother’s best friend. He was my protector. He was the boy I had loved since I was old enough to understand what loving someone meant. And he was a liar.... It’s been five years since I’ve seen him. Five long years and the memory of him still haunts me like it was yesterday.

“Since when are you into guys in ties? You only like guys who look like they rob guys in ties. At gunpoint.” It was true. By 2003, my type had been well established. There might as well have been a giant sign on my heart that said, “Good guys need not apply”. Which is exactly why I had to friend-zone Ken Easton. The man was a former football star, smelled like fresh laundry instead of stale cigarettes, and had more ties in his closet than tattoos on his knuckles. Pssh. Boring.