Chapter 12 The Prodigal Daughter

Metal clanged.

Maritza walked in like she owned the heat. Blouse stuck to her back. Pulse loud in her ears.

Cole stood shirtless in the middle, towel around his neck, fan wheezing like a dying cat. Smelled like sweat and cheap whiskey.

“Don’t,” she said flat. “Don’t talk.”

He didn’t.

“Why am I ...

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