DaCoyle nudged the back door open with his hip, twisting into the kitchen with the steaks, beer, sides, and desserts in the bag.
Indian Summer always put him in a good mood, and he was in a good mood to begin with.
He popped the tops off two beers with the flat of his wrist, a trick he learned in college. He turned to see Sheila, a sprinkling of tears on…
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