“Do you come to the farm because you have to?” She cocks her head. “What?” “Why do you visit Layla’s?” “Because that chocolate hazelnut cupcake changed my life.” I squeeze her ankle. “And why do you get your Christmas tree here? Every year.” “Because they’re pretty trees,” she answers, still bewildered. “And Beckett would murder me if I bought a fake one.” “Do you feel like you have to support this place just because your brother owns a piece of it?” Realization softens her face. “No. I just like to.” I let myself trace her soft skin one last time before I let go, letting my hands rest in my
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