Now, they feel like the truest sounds I’ve ever made. This feels like the best kind of therapy. That is, until a voice and movement from the shadows makes whatever’s left of my heart stop beating. I gasp. “Feel better?” Rafe. Recognizing his voice doesn’t stop me from reacting in a panic. I jolt, losing my balance, and find myself tumbling heels over head off the sofa backwards. I land bum-first with a crash and a crunch on what is—or was—probably an antique coffee table covered in expensive trinkets. Based on the pain radiating from my nether regions, what feels like broken glass or wood
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