“Your girl. She’s at your place all the damn time.” “You have nothing better to do but spy on me?” Tweetie clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “That’s how often she’s there. Every time I leave my place, she’s either coming or going.” He’s not wrong. For the last three weeks, Leigh has been all I think about, all I want. We talk, and I’ve been getting to know her, but I haven’t asked her a lot of personal questions. Twice now, I’ve found her at Peeper’s Alley with swollen eyes as though she’s been crying.
