I Returned a Lost Wallet from a Mechanic’s ShopThe Next Morning, a Sheriff Was Standing at My Door

against her chest.

“Is this mine?”

“It is, baby.”

She hugged it like it was something precious and turned that laugh on me, the one that sounds like pure trouble in the best possible way.

That afternoon I drove back to Gary’s house.

He answered the door before I could knock a second time, like he had been expecting me.

“I had a feeling you’d come back,” continue reading …