Ivory woke up on Arlo’s couch, sunlight draped over her like a silk shawl. She blinked slowly, unsure of where she was until the smell of toast and the quiet sound of Marvin humming from the next room settled her back into the present.She sat up, her hair tangled, her heart oddly still. The storm had passed, or at least paused.Her shoes were neatly set by the door. A blanket, light but warm, had been laid over her. And there, on the coffee table, sat a glass of water and a note — Arlo’s handwriting, crooked and familiar.“You look prettiest when you’re calm.”Ivory dropped the note. No smile. Willis was the first thing she thought when her eyes opened. She let the note fall gently back onto the table.She padded into the Arlo’s unhidden bar, poured herself a glass of whiskey, and allowed the hot drink burn all the way to her chest. She poured herself another glass. Before she could down it, the door slid open, andBefore she could down it, the door slid open, and Arlo stepped in.
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