“Isn't it ironic,” Selene commented idly as they drove to the police station, the backseat of the truck piled with new business and casual wear, pajamas, undergarments and makeup, “that a place most people would gladly never go inside feels like home to me?”
“It is. You know, the only time I've ever been inside a police station was when I was fingerprinted for my background check. I don't think I've ever been that uncomfortable in my life. Everyone was looking at me like I was some kind of d**g dealer.” He shut his mouth abruptly, cutting off his runaway words.
Parking carefully between the sun-faded lines, trying to avoid a deep pothole that had not been repaired after the spring thaw, he turned off the ignition. Selene hopped out of the truck before he could open the door for her, hurr
