“Is your mom okay?” I searched his face for any sign that he was looking for something to use against me and found nothing but sincerity. “She’s having a shitty week.” He nodded. “I wondered. You can see it in her shoulders. And in the way she looks at you.” Silence stretched a couple of beats, and then he let go of me, jerking his thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ve got food waiting.” “Yeah. Okay. By the way, I’ve got those slides done for our case. I’ll email them tonight.” Once we finished our pancakes, and Mom asked for the check, Chet reappeared with both it and a strawberry shortcake. He set
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