PREVIEW
... the door.
It wasn’t a conscious decision. Kitchen habits rarely were. They ran ahead of the rest of you, like muscle memory that had already decided how the morning was going before the brain finished waking up. The hand moved first. The head caught up later. Two cups. I’d already set out two before I even knew who was coming in.
Kern stood in the doorway.
Renner hovered a step behind him, still wrestling his notebook out of wherever he’d tucked it.
Neither of the ...
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE


























