His meeting with his father—actually, he knew he couldn’t really call it that, considering there was no conversation between them—had left him feeling settled in a positive way that felt foreign to him, but it was a good feeling, and it had helped him push through the miles heading back north. Music had propelled him on, as well. On the radio he’d found a station here in North Carolina that played a good mix of Southern rock, the stuff he and his brother grew up loving. An old Tom Petty tune was playing now and Court had the volume up as loud as it would go. He was enjoying the rock and the
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