He gestures to Leith, who’s pulled up a yard or so behind us, to stay put and strides toward the house, fearless, walking in like he owns the place. The house is so small, it only takes him a few minutes to come back out, his face grim, his expression bright with anger. He’s got Miss Nola’s purse and one of my winter sweaters.As he stalks back to me, he holds the sweater up. There’s something on it, grease or oil, like it’s been used as a rag. He shakes it at me. “This is yours.” It’s not really a question, but I nod.“You didn’t leave it wadded up on the kitchen floor.”“No.” I left it in my dresser with the rest of the clothes I didn’t have room to bring with me when I left.“Get on,” he snarls as he pitches the sweater on the ground behind him, hands Miss Nola’s purse to me, and straddles the seat, kicking the engine back on.“Alec?”He reaches back, grabs my arms, and wraps them back around his middle. “They didn’t let her take her stuff with her,” he says.“What are we going to
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