Macaylan

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All I can do is frown at the front door and spend the rest of the day obsessing over this silent interaction. I’ll replay it a hundred and two times in my head, trying to decipher if it meant something, but the truth is, it was probably nothing. Maybe I’ll wake up later and realize it was an odd dream. Either way, I know I won’t be able to look at Jessie the same after this.
The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville, #2)
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