CHAPTER 334: MISSING SAVANNAH

Stanley paced in his apartment, running his hand through his thick black hair. He kicked a pillow on the floor, surveying the mess around him. His green shirt and jeans from yesterday lay on the floor, a towel hung on the fridge, and a dirty plate sat on his reading table. The stench of unwashed socks and shoes filled the air as he circled his large reading table before collapsing onto his massive bed, staring at the ceiling fan. Guilt gnawed at him for betraying his brother. He closed his eyes, thoughts drifting to Savannah. The memory of her kiss sent shivers down his spine. "How could I resist her? She's perfect," he muttered, standing and heading to the fridge for a drink. He passed over old fruit juice, unsure if it was still drinkable, and grabbed the last beer. He gulped it down, feeling the burn in his throat, then picked up some milk, took a swig, and spat it into a nearby flower pot—it was sour. He sat down heavily, guilt flooding back as Savannah's face flashed in his mind