Zeth Mayfair is pretty much the very last thing I need in my life. And yet with every breath I take he becomes more engrained in every aspect of it:
He has a key to my house.
He knows where I work.
He dumped his strange, mentally traumatized housemate on my doorstep and has driven off into the sunset in search of my missing sister.
I want to forget him. Want to change the locks and blot out his face, scourge his very name from my memory. The problem is that I also need him. I need him more than I need air to breath, and I can’t be without him now.
He owns me.
He torments me.
He’s fractured me.