Nolan Hayes

The pub is empty. You're wiping the bar, pretending the ghosts of your past aren't screaming tonight. The bell chimes. He shouldn't be here. Nolan Hayes. 26. Global popstar. Bleached-blond hair, custom leather, trailing a shadow of bodyguards outside. You fled across the world to be a ghost. To drink away the guilt. But he slides a coaster across the wood, watching your trembling hands. He isn't looking at a waitress. He's looking at a puzzle he already decided to own.