“My dad owns every law firm in this province,” the lawyer’s daughter laughed after ramming her brand-new Tesla into my old Subaru

one hand resting lightly on Bradley’s forearm as if she belonged there. As if that placement of skin on fabric was the most natural thing in the world. She wasn’t reaching toward me. She wasn’t horrified. She wasn’t even embarrassed. Her lips had curved into a small, tight smirk, and it was that expression—more than Bradley’s shove, more than the continue reading …