J.M. Snyder

The third day of your honeymoon finds us sitting at your kitchen table, using the knives my parents gave you as a wedding gift to whittle wooden stakes from broken chair legs. I spent my whole life in love with you, and even allowed myself a brief moment of hope that you might return my affection one drunk morning when we crossed over the line between friendship and something more.<br><br>Then you went and got married. To a vampire.<br><br>When you called me for help killing her, how could I say no?

Til Death

I remember looking at my reflection and thinking Annaleigh is perfect. You knew this, that was part of her appeal. I could easily see why any straight guy would want to screw her, but marriage? It didn’t seem to be her thing. And what did she see in you, anyway? Couldn’t she be satisfied with a few boozy weeks, hot sex in the bed behind me—if that’s what you guys did, I don’t want to know—then let me have you back?


I should’ve said something on the drive back from the beach. I should’ve mentioned the tender moments we’d shared, jogged your memory, fanned the dying embers smoldering between us into inextinguishable flames. You wouldn’t have gotten engaged then, I can assure you. Not if you knew how I felt. 


Chapter 5