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I glared at him. He grinned. It was an annoyingly good grin.
Degrees. He said degrees. Plural.
when he has degree(s) >>>
“Who did this?” His voice was a low rasp of rage. “Who hurt you?”
You will get older, there’s no stopping that, but there’s no guarantee you’ll ever get wiser.
“If it concerns Gwen, it concerns me,” Graham fired back without missing a beat.
Graham didn’t respond except to growl incomprehensibly, “One more honey and we’ve got problems, Hightower.”
He was strong. He was steady. He was… Graham. My Graham. My light in the dark, my hope for better days. And in that moment… I could really use some freaking hope.
“Worth every fucking second. Worth a whole fucking lifetime.”
“I love those!” I exclaimed. “They’re my favorite.” “I know,” he said,
HE KNOWS!!!!
“We’re in a fight.” “Don’t give a shit,” he clipped back. “You don’t give a shit?” “Nope. Not one shit.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You want to be pissed at me, be pissed. Hell, I’m pretty fucking pissed at you, too. But I’m here. Told you before, I’m not letting you run from this. That goes both ways. Means I don’t run either, even when you’re a bitch.”
You push me away, I’m telling you right now, I’m not going.”
He would remember. He remembered everything.
“Gwendolyn is mine. She’s been mine a while, you just haven’t wanted to accept that.” Graham’s voice was scathing.
“Been a lot longer than two years, Firecracker, and you know it.”
“I always loved you,” I tacked on, just for the hell of it. “Even when I hated you.”
