Nico Medinaās world is eleven miles away from mine. During the day, itās a place where doors are openāwhere homes are lived in, and neighbors love. But when the sun sets, it becomes a place where young boys are afraid, where eyes watch from idling cars that hide in the shadows and wicked smoke flows from pipes.
West End is the kind of place that people survive. It buries themāone at a time, one way or another. And when Nico was a little boy, his mom always told him to run.
Iām Reagan Prescottācoachās daughter, sister to the prodigal son, daughter in the perfect family.
Life on top.
Lies.
My world is the ugly one. Private school politics and one of the best high school football programs in the country can break even the toughest souls. Our darkness plays out in whispers and rumors, and money and status trump all. I would knowāIāve watched it kill my family slowly, strangling us for years.
In our twisted world, a boy from West End is the only shining light.
Quarterback.
Hero.
Heart.
Good.
I hated him before I needed him.
I fell for him fast.
I loved him when it was almost too late.
When two ugly worlds collide, even the strongest fall. But my worldā¦it hasnāt met the boy from West End.