“Skylar.” Robbie’s voice stopped her progress, her heart taking over, seemingly going from dormant to hammering within seconds. “Robbie,” she called, but the rustling tree branches drowned her out, so she tried again. “Robbie.” “Skylar.” He came into view the way a warlord might charge over a hill into battle, his visible relief when he saw her causing him to stumble. “Don’t fucking move,” he wheezed. “Don’t.” “I’m not. I won’t.” “Don’t you dare try to get that kite. Back away from the tree.” Skylar put her hands up, feeling weary and overwhelmed and bolstered and elated by the sight of him,
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