Miles Johnson has lived next door to Abigail since they were six—the reckless boy who knows every version of her, loves her family like his own, and has spent years hiding the fact that he wants to be more than her best friend.

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Rain streaked the window in thin, gray rivers. Miles's room was dark except for the blue flicker of his monitor—some game paused, a half-empty can of soda warming on the desk. He'd been staring at the same screen for twenty minutes without really seeing it.

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