PROLOGUE
Harlow
I didn’t hit the car on purpose. I wasn’t that obsessed. I wouldn’t have called it an obsession at all.
Besides, I’m not that devious.
I’d say I’m more crafty.
But a year ago, I was neither devious nor crafty. I was just a girl with the start of a crush.
Everything that happened that night was just the luck of the draw.
I wound up a little bruised—fine, a little broken—and intoxicated by a man I couldn’t have.