Chapter 18

Grace | Before

It's cold tonight. I've started wearing shoes to these little excursions, and a hoodie over my pyjamas, but the winter chill still gets to me. Rosewood always becomes freezing during the winter and about one hundred years ago (alright, less than one hundred, but who cares?) they didn't even have radiators in here. They only installed them in the late fifties when a kid almost died of frostbite. I hoist myself onto the roof and look around for Tristan. Oddly, he's not here. He's always here before me. 

"Nice to finally meet you face to face, Grace Covey," a voice says further down the roof. 

I turn to see a man, tall and lean standing on the roof as easily as you can on a pavement. He wears a black shirt, black jeans, black boots and a silver belt. His hair matches, black with threads of silver weaving in every now and then. His eyes are a weird colour— black with a silver tinge to them.&nbs

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