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Chapter 47

Then, he’d rested his hand on Mitch’s arm, felt the difference, and the present day slammed back into place in an instant.

He’d tried to make light of the fumble, to pretend it didn’t happen. To ignore it in favor of the silly conversation at hand. Yet, it had occurred. He couldn’t get it out of his mind.

This wasn’t a touch of diagnostics to determine injuries or illnesses. No. This was a contact of caring.

And that fact rattled him to his bones.