a small one.”
Reece eyed the car from bumper to bumper and, apparently seeing no damage, walked around to the other side.
Sara knew the moment he saw the crunched-in door. She longed to flee to the safety of her room, where she wouldn’t have to endure his anger. But one thing her parents had taught her—and that had sunk in—was that she had to take responsibility for her actions.
“How did this happen?”
“Someone backed into me in the parking lot.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “So it wasn’t your fault?”
She shook her head. “The guy apologized all over the place.”
“You have a police report?”
Again she shook her head. “We exchanged information.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper onto which she’d written the man’s name, phone number and driver’s license number.
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