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stored real tools in years, only rusted blades, mouse nests, and a workbench so warped it looked like it had melted.
Clayton walked over to Mason, loud enough for everyone to hear. “At least you got something that matches your ambition.”
Brielle sighed. “Daddy knew you liked fixing junk.”
Reed smirked. “Maybe he can live in it. Save money on rent.”
Mason continue reading …
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