“You look like hell,” she replied, but there was no venom in it. Just a weary truth.
Katee didn’t cry. She was done with that. Instead, she stood up, the cool air of the diner raising goosebumps on her arms. She walked around the table, slid into his side of the booth, and pressed her temple against his shoulder. He smelled of diesel, old leather, and home. Katee Owen Braless Radar Love
“You look tired, Katee,” he said, his voice a low rasp worn smooth by road dust and lonely radio stations. “You look like hell,” she replied, but there
The door chimed. He filled the frame.