25
Ava refused to pick up his calls or reply to his texts, leaving Puck with no choice but to go to her house. It had started to f*****g blizzard outside, a match for the bleakness in his soul after Abby told him about her conversation with Ava earlier in the day. Shivering in the cold, he hunkered down and waited. Too preoccupied to check the weather and needing an outlet, he’d ridden his bike to Ava’s house before the snow began to fall. If she didn’t let him in, he was going to have to call Whistle to pick him up in a cage. The sleet—hail, whatever the hell it was lashing down on him—was like miniature knives cutting into his face. He poked away on his cell for an hour as he waited, allowing cold, wet snow to settle in the gap between his nape and his collar. Another hour passed, and h
