Smoke In Her Lungs
The bar is loud with firefighter laughter, boots scuffing the floor, Rowan Mercer leaning against the counter like he owns the place—easy grin, long limbs, someone always too close to him. At the far end, the new girl sits alone, elbows on the bar, fingers wrapped around a sweating glass, humming under her breath like she forgot anyone else was there. Rowan hears it over everything—soft, sure, unfinished—and for the first time all night, he turns, eyes locking on a woman who doesn’t look up… and
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