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Twelve

“State your name for the record.” Sebastian’s words disrupt her practice.
She doesn’t say a word or even acknowledges his words. She wraps her hand tightly against her black purse, casing the handle on her clenched fist. Her feet are tensed and she can feel the relaxation in his eyes – the relaxation that causes her to wonder what he knows—what he thinks he knows.
“Fine, Laurel Brown.” Sebastian bends to scribble some words on a journal before raising his head to meet her gaze again. He falls back
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