“I’m sure you will. Drive safe, Shitflicker.” “Listen here, ya little banshee—” “Rowan,” Sloane hisses as she wallops him in the stomach with her good arm. My grin begs to ignite. “She beat me with her crutch, Blackbird.” “And then you ate three helpings of her waffles this morning and single-handedly drained her maple syrup supply. I think you’ll survive, pretty boy.”
