Darla Jenkins wiped the tears from her eyes on the hand towel she found next to the sink. She glanced at her reflection, then quickly looked away, feeling a burning sensation from the scar that ran down her right cheek.
“Darla, are you okay?” It was Kip’s voice on the other side of the bathroom door, and she wondered if he’d come to make her feel worse.
“Go away, Kip,” she said, her voice betraying that she’d been crying.
“Come on, Darla,” Kip said. “I’m your friend, remember?”
“Well, your girlfriend is a real piece of work.” She was surprised by the anger in her tone.
“Don’t let Morgan get to you,” he said. “And you’re right. She is a piece of work.”
Darla glanced a...
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