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Eamon was the kind of handsome that was carved from forests and rivers. He had the look of someone who’d spent his life in the sun, hands in the dirt. Every color, curve, and angle of him was shaped with it.
“You may have ruined my life, June. But first, you gave me one.”
This was where it was always going to lead, wasn’t it? I’d known this as long as I’d known myself. So why did it hurt so much?
