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Tate stormed over to Inger’s booth at Mimosa House, voice booming:
“You’re killing Blue Luna butterflies with that smoking truck. I’m calling the cops.”
Inger set her fork down calmly. “They’re pupating, dude. Not extinct. Just hidden.”
Tate swung wild—missed hard. One light shove later, he stumbled back, pride deflating as Kaylee yelped and the waitress cleared the drama. Inger paid the tab, tipped big, and walked out into the sun.Continue Reading