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... winding lazily back toward the house. The shed faded behind them, a job well done, and the soft rhythm of their steps filled the silence between them. Billy's hand brushed against Artur's a few times—once, twice—until it stayed there, fingers loosely linked.

Neither of them said much. There wasn't a need to. The quiet spoke for them.

The breeze tugged at Billy's shirt, cooling the light sweat at his neck, but all he felt was the steady warmth of Artur beside him. There was a kin ...

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