She'd been talking, saying something, but I didn't hear any of it. I felt strange.Kimberly, my ex-wife, came to me. "Quinn, it'll be okay. We will all...w any visitation you want. I am so sorry it had to be this way," she said. "Sam can come to your house whenever you like. Okay?" she said.I looked at her with knitted brows. "No. You win. I lost. I'm gone," I whispered. Samantha had retreated to her uncle who held her hand. I glanced over at him with the purest of hatreds clouding my face I was. I then went over and placed one of the bottles of massage oil in the top drawer of my nightstand.Pulling out my dresser drawer, I grabbed the swim trunks and yanked the T-shirt over my head. After the shirt was tossed on the nearby chair, I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts and boxers. In one swift motion, I pulled them down and kicked them toward the chair. I pulled the trunks up, grabbed the massage oil, and dropped it in the bag. When I got to the double French doors in the. More

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