“Nothing like a good round of golf, am I right?” “Couldn’t agree more.” It’s a lie. I fucking hate golf. I’ve never understood why so many hockey players take to it during the off-season. How can they go from playing such a fast-paced game to golf? It never made sense to me.
“This does not leave this room,” I tell her seriously. “Did you kill him?” she whispers. “What?!” She shrugs. “What? You’re being all weird and secretive about it. I assumed you murdered him.” “God, Lilah.” I laugh. “No. I didn’t kill him.”
Same lilah
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