You probably can’t even—” “Cool,” I bite out evenly, more irritated by the second as he stands there acting like I’m some incorporeal voice. Can’t. That word fires me up. It’s the word that had me walking out of my parents’ house at seventeen and never looking back. My dad told me I can’t live a “proper” life as a yoga teacher, and if I wasn’t going to university or getting married, I wasn’t living under his roof. And I said, watch me. “I’m a big girl. With a big truck. And above-average driving skills. You can take your bad energy elsewhere, Bash.” His head snaps up as Clyde chortles. “Bad
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