“Bailey Jansen, I love you,” I murmur as our faces dance close to one another, exchanging soft kisses. We’re in this kind of lull. Standing on a precipice, ready to topple over the edge. “How do you know?” I kiss just below her ear, reveling in the way she tilts her head. My lips move down to her neck. “I just do.” I kiss her shoulder, right beside the tied strap. “I don’t think anyone has ever loved me.” I freeze. The pain in my chest is sharp, instant, acute. She says it like it’s a fact. I’ve seen a lot of sad shit in my life, but none of it has wounded me the way that one sentence just
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