Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

shoulders dropped an inch, the tight line of her neck relaxing just a fraction.

She looked down at the bright yellow petals, then at the gravel between Donald’s boots.

“We need to talk, Sarah,” Donald said, his tone softening further as he took a slow step up the wooden stairs. “I let my temper get the best of me at the diner, and I am sorry.”

Tyler peeked continue reading …