“Okay, so what’s the plan?” I asked him. Knox gave Waylon’s ears a last ruffle. “What plan?” “Breakfast? With my family?” I prodded. “Well, Daze, I don’t know about you, but my plan is to guzzle half a pot of coffee, chow down on some bacon, and then go back to bed for another four or five hours.” “I mean, are we still…you know…pretending?” Something passed over his face that I couldn’t read. “Yeah. We’re still pretending,” he said finally. I didn’t know if I was relieved or not. Inside, we found Liza and my dad standing sentry behind Stef as he peered into the oven at two baking sheets of
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