“Yes, you, asshole,” she seethes, trying to shove against my chest to give herself space, but I’m not going anywhere. “I said what I had to say to keep people from speaking ill of Lincoln. If you knew what they were saying—” “I don’t give a shit what they were saying.” Zoey arches a brow, and I do what I can not to breathe her in. “Sure. You don’t care what they are saying, yet the second you hear one little whisper on their lips, you come in here to abuse me. I set the story straight, Noah. They were saying you killed him, and I know you’re determined to forget he ever existed, but I’m not,
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