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... a’s gate. His hand moved to his waist, massaging the spot absentmindedly, as though trying to ease a pressure that had nothing to do with muscle or bone.
He stopped mid-step, turned to the side, and glanced over his shoulder—back at the house he had just left. His chest rose with another slow breath, but this time, it didn’t quite fall.
Instead, he stood there for a moment, looking both lost and helpless, before finally turning back and unlocking his car.
He slid into the ...
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