I couldn’t quite figure out if Bryant was despicable or just pitiful. “So, you’re

worried that the truth about his mother’s death might set him off again?”

“Yeah.” Gary nodded, “The psychiatrist suggested we take it slow and wait

until Mr. Bryant’s feeling a bit better.”

“Okay.” My response was flat, devoid of any emotion.

I’d rather not deal with the Ferguson family’s drama anymore if it weren’t for

Timothy’s dying wish. But then, getting home and thinking about Bryant’s

plight stirred a faint sense of pity in me. That quickly evaporated, however, the

moment I remembered how he yelled at me in the hospital room. That scant

pity vanished without a trace.

I suddenly found myself loathing my inability to be more decisive, hating that I

couldn’t plan things better.

While I was lying on the couch, zoning out in sheer boredom, Christine

suddenly popped by.

didn’t you just use your fingerprint to

want to walk in on something

kicked off her heels, and

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“Why the long

striking the snake at its head today.” I tossed

laughing at myself. “It turned out that

startled the snake instead.”

Christine unscrewed the bottle,

“Too bad I’m lost.

mother, Teresa, woke up today.” I sighed, “I had the

Bryant’s mother’s death and was ready

shipped off.”

I shared the

little bitch stays, and now, we’ve got

juice. “But Bryant not trusting

was curious.

has he

a rant about Margaret’s family tree

she was oddly

at her and saw her eyes were all red. “What’s

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