Are you defending Marcie?” He shook his head. “I don’t need to. She handled herself. You, on the other hand…” I pointed at the door. “Out.
Becca FitzpatrickDon’t start. I saw Marcie climb inside your Jeep.” “She needed a ride.” I adopted a hands-on-hips pose. “What kind of ride?” “Not that kind of ride,” he said slowly.
Becca FitzpatrickI couldn't stand here, hanging on, when the very thing I held disappeared more with each passing day.
Becca Fitzpatrick