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“It’s you,” he repeated gruffly, fingers tightening on my waist. “I pick you. Every single time.”
out. “I’m not your mother or your sister. I’m not another girl who needs something from you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly wants you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly loves you. The hurler. The mechanic. The boy. The protector. The asshole. The lover. The addict.”