Page 148 of Sweet Nightmare

And again.

I’ve done it since childhood. Rereading gives my brain time to settle the words into place. The first time through, the letters sometimes seem to shift beneath me, refusing to stay where they belong. The second is easier. By the third, the sentences feel familiar enough that I no longer have to fight to keep them in order.

So I reread quietly until no one notices my difficulty.

Rereading books, contracts, and scripts has become one of the habits I’ve perfected over the years, tucked among all the other things I do to hide the parts of myself I’d rather keep private.

The imperfect parts.

The parts that don’t belong to a Volpe heir.

Last night, Stephen’s notes gave me another reason to keep turning the same pages. I don’t think he realizes how much they reveal about him. Perhaps that’s why I couldn’t stop reading.

But not even Frankenstein’s monster can distract me from my brain parasite.

That’s exactly what Stephen is.

After spending an entire night outside his bedroom listening to him fight his nightmares, my brain has apparently decided the appropriate response is to become even more interested in the man.

Excellent.

Just excellent.

I turn another page, only to realize I’m rereading the same paragraph for the fourth time. I stop and stare at the page before slowly closing the book.

Every interaction with Stephen seems to chip away at my self-control, and that’s something I can’t afford to lose. I don’t even know how to be soft, and a man like him needs someone that—A knock interrupts my train of thought.

Good. That thought doesn’t deserve to finish.

Before I can tell whoever’s outside to flee while they still have the chance, the door opens.

Mrs. Han enters wearing an obnoxiously bright yellow dress covered in red polka dots. Her short hair is pinned into a ridiculous retro hairstyle, making her look like a cheerful 1950s housewife who just stepped out of a sitcom.

She looks loud and…cute.

Mika follows in a blue tracksuit, dressed in an oversized black shirt with a terrifying clown on it and flannel shorts. She knows how much I hate stupid clowns, which means she’s wearing it specifically to annoy me.

“Good morning, pretty girl!” Mrs. Han sings, clapping her hands with enough enthusiasm to power three cities. She has far too much energy for five in the morning.

“Morning,” I mumble.

Mika studies me. “How are you still so grumpy this late in the morning?”

I slowly turn my head toward her.

“Have you always been this annoying in the morning?”

She takes a leisurely sip from her ridiculous ghost mug. “Yup.”

I narrow my eyes.

At least she’s honest.

Mrs. Han walks over and glances at the book in my lap.

“Oh! Reading again.”

Again?