ound that tore right through me. His small bod
that cost me the last of our grocery money. He needed real medic
taped to the door, the paper w
bar owner, a man whose eyes had lingered on me for too long when I served him coffee at the diner. The job
call the man, my thumb h
red. Strange, vivid images flooded my mind, sharp
y, but laughing in a bright, sunny cafe. He was sliding a credit c
oving into a spacious, clean apartment on the base, a home pa
king the bar owner' s job. I saw Leo, home al
l. It showed Ethan, standing there not with grief, but with grim satisfaction, using Leo' s death to divorce
a physical blow. The phone dropped from
owner's card was poison. That path was not
red, my voice
o my arms. His future, our future, was not going to
had to face Ethan. I had
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