19
Anna
I hadn’t heard my real name aloud in over ten years. I had it set up as a web search on my news feeds that got sent to my email, but nothing had popped up—at least as it related to me and not an Olivia Edwards from Oklahoma—in about eight years. Even the media had given up on me. It was rusty sounding, as if the name were of an old friend. Olivia Edwards. I was born Olivia, but I’d left her behind when I was just a guileless teenager, like shedding a coat after a long winter, to be Anna Scott.
In the past week, since meeting Nick, I’d molted once again, becoming something more. Something even better than what I’d been doing—living—for a decade. I wanted Nick to be here. I wanted him to keep me safe. I wanted to know I could give some of my troubles to someone else, but it wouldn
