Chapter Three
Alex woke with a jerk, the sun stabbing through the gaps in the blinds into his eyes. He muttered a curse. Looked at the crooked wall clock. Four hours of sleep wasn’t going to do it. He closed his eyes but it was too late. Tired but not sleepy. How did that work? He sat up. Rubbed his eyes. The silence of the house didn’t soothe. Why should it? He’d been raised in chaos, probably forever ruined by it. A quick shower took the edge off tired. He already had a bunch of texts from the sibs about his early morning adventure, which for some reason made him think about Eleanor Whitby.
He should have mulled the crazy parts, but found himself stuck remembering her eyes. Wondering what it was about them that he couldn’t forget. Not that he was interested in her or anything. Curious.
