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not looking was love.
Now he held the silver swallow in his hand and did the math.
Seven years.
If Clara had been pregnant when he left, the child would be six now.
Lily was six.
Her eyes were the Vance gray-blue.
His grandmother’s eyes.
His mother’s eyes.
A color he had spent all night calling candlelight because he was afraid to call it blood.
He set the continue reading …
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