Chapter 219

• Leah's POV
• The supermarket fluorescents buzzed like angry hornets. I trailed Liam past pyramids of canned beans, his boots squeaking against linoleum. He moved like a feral cat—all coiled tension and sideways glances. The discount rack called to him like a siren.
• "Jackpot," he muttered, scooping armfuls of spaghetti boxes into the cart. The packaging screamed ITALIANA AUTENTICA! in Comic Sans. I snorted. Authentic as his leather jacket's "genuine pleather" tag.