time for bed. I was getting depressed over something I didn’t know anything about except a few pictures and social media sites. My foot slipped between the couch cushions as I hoisted myself up, and my toe landed on something cold and hard. If Trevor was anything like Easton, he’d probably been looking for his TV remote for days. I stuck my hand between the cushions, fully expecting to pull out a rectangular chunk of plastic, not a pacifier. Trevor didn’t have kids, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a niece or nephew and I knew a handful of guys on the team had kids. As I tossed it onto the
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