Song of the Fireflies. J. Redmerski A.

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Название Song of the Fireflies
Автор произведения J. Redmerski A.
Жанр Эротика, Секс
Серия
Издательство Эротика, Секс
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007581122



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       Song of the Fireflies

      J.A. Redmerski

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       For Michael N. and Alexander D.

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Dedication

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Chapter Twenty-Three

       Chapter Twenty-Four

       Chapter Twenty-Five

       Chapter Twenty-Six

       Chapter Twenty-Seven

       Chapter Twenty-Eight

       Chapter Twenty-Nine

       Chapter Thirty

       Chapter Thirty-One

       Chapter Thirty-Two

       Chapter Thirty-Three

       Read on for an extract from The Edge of Never

       Read on for an extract from The Edge of Always

       About the Author

       Also by J. A. Redmerski

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      Elias

      They say you never forget your first love, and I have to say that they are right. I met the girl of my dreams when we were both still fans of tree houses and dirt cakes—she made the best dirt cakes in Georgia—and today, seventeen years later, I still see her smile in everything good.

      But Bray’s life has always been… complicated. Mine, well, I guess the same can be said for me, but as much as she and I are alike, there are just as many things that make us so very different.

      I never thought that a relationship with her, other than being the best of friends, sometimes with benefits, could ever work. Neither did she. I guess in the beginning, we were both right. But by the end—and damn, the end sure as hell blindsided us—we were proven wrong. I admit a few dozen mistakes along the way are what led us here to this moment, holed up in the back of a convenience store with cops surrounding the building.

      But wait. Let me start from the beginning.

       Fourth of July—Seventeen Years Ago…

      The kind of crush a nine-year-old boy has on an eight-year-old girl is almost always innocent. And cruel. The first time I saw Brayelle Bates flitting toward me through the wide-open field by Mr. Parson’s pond, she was marked my victim. She wore a white sundress and a pair of flip-flops with little purple flowers made of fabric sewn to the tops. Her long, dark hair had been pulled neatly into ponytails on each side of her head and tied with purple ribbons. I loved her. OK, so I didn’t really “love” her, but she sure was pretty.

      So, naturally I gave her a hard time.

      “What’s that on your face?” I asked, as she started to walk by.

      She stopped and crossed her arms and looked down at me sitting on my blanket beside my mother, pursing her lips at me disapprovingly.

      “There’s nothing on my face,” she said with a smirk.

      “Yes there is.” I pointed up at her. “Right there. It’s really gross.”

      Instinctively, she reached up and began touching