"I blame myself, it's nothing but wishful thinking."
Jasmine Jennings, expressionless, pinched the napkin and blew her nose. Her charming eyes were red and swollen, making Sierra Summers feel frustrated, a tightness in her chest.
Perhaps she had cried enough; Jasmine wasn't wearing makeup today, her lips were chapped and pale, her complexion poor.
Initially, Sierra focused entirely on her complexion, but now that Jasmine's emotions had stabilized a bit, she noticed Jasmine's dress was somewhat dirty and chaotic, with scratches exposed on her collarbone and faint bruises on her hand wiping away tears.
Sierra's forehead throbbed, "Did he dare lay a hand on you?!"
Jasmine threw the napkin into the trash can. Upon hearing, she laughed inexplicably, "He laid a hand on me? No, Lucas Rhodes wouldn't lay a hand on me; he's not that kind of person."
"But ultimately, I really don't understand him."
