The Misdelivered Secret Between Arthur and the Girl Next Door

A nineteen-year-old girl had baked through the night to throw buckets of water on a burning house.

And I had called her vain.

Outside, Brian honked.

Once.

Short.

I flinched with irritation.

Kayla looked toward the window.

“Your son seems nice,” she said.

The way she said it almost made me laugh.

“He is not at his best.”

“Are any of us?”

That stopped me.

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