If Hope had been given any warning whatsoever that Tyson would be at my house, she might have worn something other than her paint-stained sweats, and she may have done something with her hair other than pulling the long, dark curls into a messy knot on the top of her head. But who would have thought Tyson Long would be at my house on Thanksgiving? And to spend time with me, no less. But Hope hadn’t been warned, and so she did wear her sweats and messy hair, and she was horrified with herself when Tyson walked back into the living room and sat beside her on the sofa.
Thankful
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