C17 Chapter 17

"I'm sorry, I must have hit my head harder than I thought, because it sounded like you said I magically stopped our car from killing me and--I don't know--wrinkling your outfit?" My voice carries in it all the disbelief I feel, mixed with an unhealthy dose of adrenaline and raw nerves.

"That is correct," he says, tugging on his jacket. "My clothing is not wrinkled."

I raise an eyebrow

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