“I do trust you, Hammond. See, that’s the thing: I trust you more than I’d like to admit, even to myself. Don’t mistake familiarity for security. That’s what you told me, right?” I’m on a roll, the words ripping from my lips in a stream of hurt and anger. “We’re way past that. I trust you so much that I’d let you approach me on a darkened road. I am that nice girl who would agree to help you carry whatever shit you need to the car because you pretend you’re injured. Remember that time when you approached a girl with a cane, pretending you were blind and fucking lost? Yeah, I would have helped
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