Nina
I don’t sleep that night. It’s like I’m stuck in a loop, tossing and turning, my skin burning hot under the covers. Callie’s words keep circling in my head. She doesn’t get it. She’ll never get what it’s like to have someone’s name practically etched into your bones, to carry a scar they left behind.
Jaxon did that. And Elijah? He’s this strange reminder of a piece of my life that I can’t let go of yet.
I stare at my phone, then type it out before I can stop myself: He’s not Jaxon.
It’s barely a minute before Callie replies, blunt as hell: No s**t, Nina. He’s not supposed to be.
I exhale, my head falling into my hands. She’s right, of course. Elijah isn’t Jaxon. He’s not even close. But that’s what’s f*****g me up. Elijah is a symbol of my past, and Jaxon was supposed to be my fu
