Zeth Mayfair is pretty much the very last thing I need in my life. And yet with every breath I take he becomes more engrained in every aspect of it: He has a key to my house. He knows where I work. He dumped his strange, mentally traumatized housemate on my doorstep and has driven off into the sunset in search of my missing sister. I want to forget him. Want to change the locks and blot out his face, scourge his very name from my memory. The problem is that I also need him. I need him more than I need air to breath, and I can’t be without him now. He owns me. He torments me. He’s fractured me.