Bow Echo
While I waited for Dylan, who was almost five minutes late now, I leaned on my jeep, listening to Brady’s apologetic voicemail that he’d left me this morning. I scowled, cutting off the message before Brady finished speaking. I got the point. He was sorry, but I wasn’t quite ready to forgive or talk to him quite yet. I pushed off the car and looked around as if expecting Dylan to magically appear. Where was he? Dylan had never been late like this before.
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