Once Hannah was sure Grace was okay, she bid her farewell.

Exiting the house, Hannah spotted Bryson, poised against a black vehicle, awaiting her.

“Mr.

Mitchell?”

The evening wind ruffled Bryson’s dark shirt collar and tousled his hair.

With a soft expression, he met Hannah’s eyes.

“Hop in.

I’ll take you home.

“I’d rather not.

Almost instinctively, Hannah aimed to maintain space from Bryson.

But instantly regretting her words, she hesitated, then added, “Taxis are easy to hail around here.

appreciate the

Mitchell.

word, swung the

“It’s getting late.

the thought of you

a brief hesitation, Hannah agreed and

of mint in the car revived Hannah’s once

buckled her seat belt and gazed out

Bryson stayed quiet

been close

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grandfather and mine

families have always shared a

why Bryson brought up his ties to the Glyn

and caught his striking

We’re just acquaintances with

of

down, fidgeting with

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